In the Coming of a Truce
by Rap's
Summary: (Now revised! Everyone sigh in relief! heh!) This is a fic that explores the relationship between Albert and Doel! Major Carlos bashing... Lloyd beats Frugel up, Albert kicks much ass, and Lavits is around too. Quite alot of people get hurt and killed. He
1. Both should be Wary...

~*In the Coming of a Truce*~

*In the Coming of a Truce*  
A Legend of Dragoon Fanfiction  
Written by Rap's ([RaptorJNB@aol.com][1])  


Notes:   
  
Doel kicks ass. *coughs* uh- other then that... I wrote this to satisfy some issues I was having with the relationship between Albert and Doel. They are both the last family either has left and, being interesting characters, I wanted to write something that would involve the two in a way more then the blunt- "DIE!" thing. On one side you have Doel... Dark, Strong, Generally what we would consider evil... although when you really think about it- Doel was corrupted by Diaz. After his wife died something happened to him... and my poor handsome minor character turned bad! Not fair!! On the OTHER hand your have Albert- who is a generally happy, prone to melancholy, sensitive sort who contrasts against his uncle like... well I dunno! LIke mega-contrastment... and that is so not even a WORD!!!!  
  
Well- basically I wanted rhyme for reason. SUBSTANCE- people!  
  
Ugh. Okay- I dunno how to explain it.  
  
Y ou will learn while reading that yes- I have a strong dislike for Carlos. *GAK* And I seem to hold an affinity for plot liberty as well. MWHA HA! This story WILL have altered the original course of LOD somewhat should it have really occurred, so please just consider it out of the LOD eventline.  
  
Derrick the knight is my original character. Don't worry- he's not a major part of the story or anything. And I called that doctor in Lohan Fe'rom as I can't remember his name. The concept of *True Serdian* Is also something I came up with.  
  
NOW I'll shut up!! PROMISE!!  
  
UH... wait.. No I won't! Just one more thing!  
  
Please realize that you do need an understanding of Doel and Albert's relationship in the game. Meaning before and after you face him- and the words exchanged when Albert and Doel go one on one at the moon. Be aware of Doel's plan- and Lloyd's involvement in it. (You know- about Feyrbrand and the violet dragoon spirit) Uh- you DO all know that Carlos is Albert's father right? Okay. You DO know the 'Serdian War' started when he died, huh? Sweet. And you DO all know that Doel assassinated him- right? Good. *Heavy sigh* Then I think you should do fine in reading this.  
  
  
  
----  
  
I know I cant hold the hate inside.  
'Cause what consumes your thoughts controls your life.  
So I'll just ask a question-  
What if?  
Human pride sings a vengeful song.  
  
-Creed "What if" (variation)  
  
------   
  
Be aware that this story occurs before the game- and begins with a segment seventeen years before the real start of my story- from Doel's POV.  
  
~ denotes thought ~ and _Italics_ means the character is having a flashback!   
------   
  
  
By the gods- he was strong.  
  
Doel buckled under the staggering blade, throwing himself to one side as Carlos growled his irritation. His sibling moved with the grace of ice. A slipping, almost maddening elegance that took Doel by more then surprise. The taller, older brother was built thick as the giant red oak. Nothing about Carlos had ever given Doel the impression of speed... and yet here it was. Plowing him against the cold floor with tremendous velocity.  
  
"Pathetic." His brother spat. A voice metallic as his eyes.  
  
Doel gave a grunt of pain and effort- slamming a knee into the face that leered near his own. There was a heavy snap as Carlos felt his jaw click unnaturally to one side, but that did not stop him. The King of Serdio was taken by no one.   
  
Certainly not his younger blood.   
  
And of course, around them it was not without similar chaos. The throne room, although absent of knight and soldier, echoed mercilessly as the threads of battle drifted nearby. In a span of near minutes, the castle Indels had become a playground of swords and skill. An utter shock to the city of Bale, who had watched on in helpless fright as Doel and his men galloped through the streets.   
  
Intent lingered on each weapon. Each face.  
  
But there had been a misstep in his plans, Doel was forced to reason. Some small quirk. A fragment of glass left unswept. He found it here... shuffled between rage and hurt. A calamity of actions that had finally taken Doel to the chamber of his brother. This throne room.   
  
There had not been a single word uttered, nor gesture shared as they began. Just the mutual need to destroy one another. Doel had never thought he would hesitate.   
  
His brother most certainly had not, and attained the upper hand.   
  
"You insolent fool!" Came a deep, booming voice. An incarnation of hostility- dripping the natural venom that Carlos could so easily hold. "You actually thought you could succeed, Doel!? You think I am so blind to have not read your treacherous heart!?"  
  
Blows fell. Continuous, mindless... painful.  
  
"NO ONE mistakes me for the fool! You worthless disgrace! I shall have your head mounted upon my THRONE!"  
  
Gasping for air, Doel was struck solidly in the chest with one powerful thrust. The room- pale marble, white and green- fell around him like broken crystals. Light from the balcony behind them danced along a sword above. The sword of Darkness.   
  
Absently, his mind fluttered with a brief thought and vision. Carlos had never been without it. Not once.   
  
"A fool can see plain as any man!" Doel managed through bloodied teeth. "Yet see or not, he is a fool still!"  
  
~I shall not fall to your power! I shall not let you continue the selfish rape of our country!~  
  
Carlos gave something like a roar... a seven foot frame of strength and skill- raising his sword with purpose and hate... grinning madly through the dark brown hair that streamed over desolate eyes. There was something unholy about him. Dangerous and frightening.  
  
"Then gaze upon your corpse, vermin! You, your men, and that bitch of a woman you took for a wife!"  
  
~Don't You DARE-!!!!!!~  
  
Doel rolled his body out from under the sword, hearing a 'chink' just behind his head as it dropped and met only the icy ground. Rage boiled within his heart as the smaller, black haired man flipped upright and tossed one arm forwards. His own weapon- the divine sword of light, sung as it cut through the air around them.  
  
Doel hissed, face flushed and teeth grit.   
  
"Ah yes, that's a tender spot, isn't it!?" And Carlos took his breath away with a devastating blow- knocking Doel to the ground once more and violently attacking thereafter. Doel screamed as his brother's dark, burning blade ran easily through the flesh of his left shoulder. Nailed him to the floor. A moment later, and Carlos brought a heavy boot dead center into the gut of his younger sibling.  
  
"I was always stronger then you..." The royalty mocked, kneeling down and letting his face halt inches from Doel's own. " More able a ruler. More true a man." His firm, square features pulled into a knot- jaw tight and eyes full of contempt. "How I will -enjoy- killing you my brother!"  
  
And, for the umpteenth time that dreary, cold morning... Carlos raised his sword.  
  
"Father- _NO_!!!"  
  
~Who-?~   
  
The small voice cut through the air with a piercing sharpness, stunning both men as if it was some violent jolt back into reality. Carlos paused and wavered a moment, rage still creasing his features as he kicked Doel solidly in the chest and leapt backwards. A somewhat dysfunctional moment passed in the way of his thoughts... but they returned quickly enough. Armor seeming to strain as he cursed and spun around, Carlos pinned a deadly glare over the horrified form of his son.  
  
"What are you DOING!? Albert continued, mouth slightly parted and eyes wide. As Doel groaned slightly and attempted to push himself up from the floor, the boy ran forwards.  
  
"Uncle!"  
  
~Don't-!~  
  
Carlos had him with one deft movement of his hand, taking the child's slender neck in one palm and hauling him up and back- to the floor. Albert let out something like a small gasp when he was violently thrown upon the cold ground.  
  
Doel managed to climb to one knee.  
  
~Albert... should have been dead by now.~  
  
"Disrespectful brat!" Carlos snarled, his anger seeming to flicker as it now found itself torn between the boy- and his brother. His temper was the very definition of insanity, sending the brutal king far beyond what Doel would consider rational thought.   
  
It was more then shocking to him when Carlos, undecided between his prey, landed a brutal blow to the face of his own child. Sent Albert limp to the floor in that one strike.  
  
He THEN returned those steel gray eyes back upon Doel. Grinned.  
  
"Children..." Came a somewhat bored word- making the comment general and ugly.  
  
Doel could only stare, confusion and disbelief strengthening ever fiber of his body that screamed; -kill the bastard!- with a fierce resolve. Even as Carlos charged him again, Doel stayed quiet and still. One hand reached; gathered the hilt of his sword into a fist. His left shoulder throbbed mercilessly, and would be useless to him now. Walking- MOVING seemed almost unimaginable. Beneath his flesh, three separate bones of his ribcage now lay fractured if not broken- twisting near his lungs.  
  
~One chance. Use it.~  
  
And he did.  
  
Eyes closed and right arm thrust forwards, Doel felt the presence of time leak away when something warm and wet began to flow over his skin. Down his arm it poured steadily... and beat over the ground in near perfect unison to a slow, ragged breathing that echoed just above his right ear. A painful, continuous intake of air that seemed to defy death.  
  
In less then half a second, Doel had raised his blade to meet the furious king of Serdio.  
  
He- who now lay impaled upon the glinting sword of light.  
  
Carlos gave a slight tremble, and as Doel turned his head just slightly he could see the right arm of his brother finally release it's weapon- letting the fine metal clatter to the ground. Braced against the floor- the hilt of Doel's sword had kept Carlos propped upright; looming over the figure of his sibling with the most odd of expressions. The anger of before, mixed with shock. If pain was to have been evident, Doel could find no trace of it.  
  
~Your tyranny is over, Carlos.~ He thought with some absent, final understanding.   
  
The king blinked as if he had heard, head slightly etching lower to view the blade that had run itself through his stomach. With the movement, an endless amount of blood began from his mouth- adding to the pool that streaked over the floor and blanketed Doel's battlements. This alone seemed to fascinate him... as if he could not quite grasp what had happened.   
  
Their eyes locked- if only for a moment.  
  
And then the mortally wounded of the two tried to mutter some curse, or some enraged fragment of a sentence.... but all that came from his mouth was still more and more crimson. Almost violently, as if the sudden and sharp reality of what he had done came crashing down at an instant, Doel wanted to scream as Carlos fell slack with something like a growl. His burning gaze was left to dwindle and finally expire.  
  
Doel stared- numb  
  
Perhaps five minutes had echoed away when he finally managed to drag his body out from under that of his brother, sending one foot into the base of the sword of light. Left without support, both Carlos and the weapon fell limp to the ground in one sickening movement. A heap he did not bother to regard nor look upon for even a second longer.  
  
And then, outside- echoing up the cool white hallways... He heard whoops and shouts coming from near the spanning arch entranceway to the throneroom. Doel wasn't entirely aware of his captain- or of the other men that now filed inside like over anxious children. Galen, one of the first whose shadow played across the marble walls, made a sort of victorious shriek and lifted his sword high. Others followed his example... and still- Doel couldn't quite grasp them. Couldn't quite understand.  
  
"DOEL!!! ha- HAH!" Another cheer, another shout. "You goddamned demon!"  
  
Hands clasped him over his wounded shoulder- head and back. In front of him, other soldiers flipped the body of his brother to one side and stabbed- weapons thrusting into the dying body so that each might taste of this victory.  
  
He watched, almost listlessly.  
  
"We've won, Doel!" A hard shake. "Come on, get up! You must have had a time of it- look at that shoulder!!!"  
  
The random voices of his men flickered on and off as Doel staggered to his feet, accepting the help of a nearby soldier and muttering something about the injury to his chest. Almost immediately, his thoughts curbed and twisted. His voice gathered.  
  
"Albert... you didn't kill him..."  
  
And Galan, who had come to his side, bumbled a moment and then nodded. "Yes- sir... he got away from us, but it seems you managed to take care of that folly-!" With one hand, the young captain gestured to a small heap that lay strewn some bit away from them. Doel, blinking to adjust his vision, at once began forwards.  
  
"He's not-" And Doel fell victim to a violent cough as he neared the body of his nephew. "...Dead. I hadn't struck him. Carlos..."  
  
Galen gestured quietly to a few of the other soldiers, demanding with eyes alone that a doctor be brought at once. They would need to leave the capitol shortly, as the Knighthood would return quite soon. A well placed diversion had left the castle vulnerable- but time was not entirely on their side.  
  
"We'll get you patched up in no time flat..." he grinned at Doel, watching the older man as he knelt beside prince Albert. "Carlos was a damned brute. It's amazing you were able to take him alone!" And, in again finding no reply, Galen let a flash of uncertainty border his features.  
  
"Goddamnit, Doel. It ain't you whose dead on the floor! Crack a smirk and lets get going! palace guards we can take- but the knighthood is gonna' be blind mad once they realize Carlos and his kid are-!!!  
  
"Albert is NOT dead!" Doel spat, swinging an arm in the direction of Galen's head. The younger fell backwards, lifting a defensive hand. "Haven't you LISTENED to a WORD I've said!? Fool!" And at his outburst, the now crowded chamber became quiet.  
  
Doel moved an almost listless glare over the faces around him. Many defect knights- soldiers who believed in him, and his ideals. Each body of armor and confused expression turned to meet his own... the brown, gold and black of their uniforms somewhat odd in contrast to the pearl white throne room itself. After a moment, his gaze then trailed back to the boy sprawled before him. Dazed, hurting and numb throughout- the prince looked up at him through wounded eyes and tried to move.  
  
Obviously he couldn't... Not with being in a state that seemed borderline conscious at best.  
  
Doel absently touched a deep gash over Albert's left arm as a drum of footfalls began towards him. Slow and even- that of a stronger soldier amongst his troop. Indeed- Albert had survived more then a few run In's with his men if the wounds Doel saw over his body were any indication. He hadn't counted on the child being so evasive. The plan had initially been (when they first arrived at the castle) for a group to take each wing, destroy the guards, kill Albert, and let he alone have at Carlos.  
  
A glint of black metal floated near the side of his face- and the steps that had approached him now stopped. He heard a voice, and the hilt of a sword was presented.  
  
"Then finish what we came here to start, my friend. Take your brother's sword, and slay the child,"  
  
Doel grasped the weapon, mindlessly.  
  
"With his death-" The soldier spoke, backing up a respectful few paces. "Our struggle ends. New Serdio will be born, and under the reign of justice. Doel Segean ..." and he smiled. "You will reclaim your birthright!"  
  
A shout. Cheering.  
  
~But not.. This way. Not my hand... not my memory- please!!!~  
  
He held the blade to Albert's small neck, kneeling over his body with face a tight mask of control. Doel could feel his chest heave as a pain shot throughout. It was somewhat odd to hear those voices again... his soldiers- laughing. Gawking over the body of his murdered brother to admire the prize that it was.  
  
Doel had often spoke of killing him. Of preparing. And now the hour had come and gone in what seemed such a very few seconds. Carlos was dead. A bleeding symbol of their conquest.  
  
But his nephew... was not a kill he had wanted to share in. He and Carlos. Sword to sword.  
  
Not... this.  
  
Albert was no longer conscious, now... and as his body fell completely limp- The slight movement of his neck literally exposed a pale throat to the dark sword. Doel, threads of jet black hair wafting over his gaze, felt himself trembling. Albert couldn't know what was happening just now. How could he understand? The boy actually looked... somewhat relived that his uncle was still alive. Even gazing upon his dead father some few seconds before, the emotion was still present.  
  
"Doel."  
  
He blinked away sweat, looking upwards at the form of Galen- who had spoken.  
  
"End it."  
  
Pressing the edge of his razor sharp weapon slightly into Albert's flesh, his nephew made no sound nor movement. A thin line of blood began to form where metal met skin.   
  
The others watched on. Some nervously, as from outside the balcony one could see a mass of horses galloping towards the castle.  
  
The 1st knighthood had returned, Servi Slambert at the head of their ranks.   
  
----------  
  
They say that blood is thicker then water.  
And still one is forced to note;  
Each does flow.  
  
----------   
  
  
~~ 17 years later. ~~  
  
  
"All these years- and NOW you choose to go insane!?" A sharp clank of metal. A violent toss of arms. "Goddamnit it, Albert... you are no foolish man... and yet THIS!?"  
  
"My decision is final." A thin voice spoke, head only partially turned to regard the figure behind him. Twenty three years had done the young king of Serdio no injustice. Ever tall, graceful in his own respect, and wielding a mind sharper then the most lethal partisan, Albert let his voice echo solidly over the hearing of a trusted friend.   
  
"Final my goddamned ass. That doesn't mean you haven't made a mistake." Lavits continued. His sea green eyes burned with worry and a general, underlying hate for Sandora. "Would you like to be gift wrapped as well? I'm sure they'd appreciate that all the more!"   
  
In the midmorning light of a cloudy afternoon, Albert slammed one hand into the smooth, reddish surface of his desk. The angry sound rattled off into each separate corner of the room. A well crafted, pale cream area with rows upon rows of involving books; information and detailed research that stood end to end on shelves which rimmed each high wall. In the middle of it all, a concerned Knight lowered his arms just slightly and shook his head as Albert whirled around.  
  
His features were drawn tight. Controlled, but stressed evenly throughout.  
  
"Your sarcasm is noted, and unappreciated." Hazel eyes narrowed. "I am set in this, Lavits. Danger or no, a choice has been made."  
  
Sweeping an errant strand of blonde from his eyes, Lavits gave his king a defiant glare and walked forwards; the heavy plates of his armor faintly clattering as they shifted over his body. Honestly, he didn't know what he was doing when he gripped Albert's shoulders in one harsh motion. If he had meant to shake him violently, the ash blonde struck away his hold in one tense movement, and the action was never completed.  
  
"I can not ALLOW this! I refuse! I absolutely REFUSE to let you stroll right into Kanzas and get yourself KILLED!!!"  
  
"ONE." Albert took a step forwards- closing the last few inches between them. "I have no intention of getting myself 'killed.' TWO-" And Lavits growled, exasperation etching up over his features. "The coming of a truce may be our first tentative steps towards peace! If my uncle chooses to hold conference with me in the Black Castle- so be it!"  
  
"Bull!" Lavits shouted. "If your uncle gets you into Kanzas, he'll goddamned destroy you. And If your dead, that's it. Game OVER!"  
  
"THREE!" Albert snapped, raising his voice to drown out the angered tones of Lavits' own. "I am VERY aware of whatever dangers could be associated with this arrangement and I am willing to take them!"  
  
"Oh By the GODDESS!" The knight fumed, jerking himself around and stalking out into the study."And what of Basil!? Be as goddamned righteous as you want, Albert. But YOU aren't the only one who will die if Sandora gains control of all Serdia!!!!!!"  
  
As Lavits turned back around, he knew instantly that he had broken something sharp and vital within his friend.  
  
In one sudden bout of fury, Albert shouted a trembling; "And you don't think I KNOW that!?" with a voice both hurt and utterly enraged. His unbreakable gaze, pinned over the somewhat startled knight, tore itself away and upwards to the skylight that reigned above.   
  
A heavy, distraught silence enveloped them both as Albert finally lowered his eyes- then closing them altogether. He swallowed. Grasped his head a moment as if searching for the most unreachable of answers.  
  
"Lavits- either way I look at this..." And Albert seemed weak under his sudden loss of control. Troubled, drowning eyes implored the other man. "You MUST understand. Even with this scenario yielding countless space for mishap, what true choice do I have? Uncertain as I may be. As DANGEROUS as it is... by going to Kanzas I chance in either destruction or halt of a brutal war. Nearly twenty years of fighting has torn my country apart. If I ignore my Uncle's proposition should he be truthful in this endeavor? We are again plunged back into more chaos. More death. If indeed his intentions are ill... gods... you KNOW that at this point Basil is near to collapse as it is! The chance to strengthen ourselves in the prospect of a ceasefire is to great an opportunity to overlook. For both of us. If I cannot even attempt to establish a small, but necessary foothold towards peace..."  
  
He shook his head. Turned away.  
  
"Then we are already lost."  
  
Resolving in the moments after to collapse, somewhat defeated, into the chair beside his desk, Albert did not entirely register Lavits... having walked silently towards him. The blonde knight only sighed. Lowered his head in a quiet acceptance to the truth in Albert's words.  
  
"I hate you and your goddamned speeches..." He said, quietly.  
  
The king of Serdio only managed a hoarse chuckle, watching absently as Lavits knelt down beside his seat and clasped one hand over his shoulder.  
  
"But Albert... there has to be SOMETHING else- ANYTHING that-"  
  
"No, there is not. You know this, Lavits."  
  
The blonde closed his eyes. "Then at LEAST let me accompany you to-!"  
  
"LAVITS-" Albert raised a hand and gripped the one at his shoulder. A few moments of silence yet again passed between them, although the hostility of before was no longer present. "I'm not six anymore. I'm not a child. I know what must be done."  
  
The knight swallowed sharply. "But you ARE my friend. Duty alone does not demand I protect you!!!"  
  
"And I will not have your life wasted should something run amiss. The castle needs you here." He smiled in manner more forced then not. "Keep things in order while I'm gone. That is all I ask. God willing, I will return with good news."  
  
Despite whatever morbid demon fought to shout in protest. To say; "You may not return at ALL!" with unforgivable certainty... Lavits only forced himself to nod. His gaze listlessly held the room for a moment; debating, hating and hurting- all at the same time. He rose.  
  
"... When will you be leaving?"  
  
Albert replied with an even; "There is no time like the present."  
  
Not that any of this eased the nerves of his childhood friend. Lavits found that, as Albert began up from his seat to exit the room, his king must have been prepared to leave at a moment's whim. Had decided on an appropriate time far before their heated discussion began. At the door, green cape left to settle gently about his ankles, Albert turned once to look at him.  
  
"Wish me luck?"  
  
Lavits tried to smile. "Always."   
  
---------  
  
In the Black Castle, Kanzas.   
  
---------   
  
  
  
"Doel."  
  
Reddish gray eyes shot open. A heavy hand moved from his temple- to the right arm of a glinting throne etched in black metal. His eyes narrowed.  
  
"Sire, I apologize..." And the man who had disturbed his thoughts gave a small bow, kneeling upon one knee. His thick reddish hair fell forwards with the motion, and the eyes of a young soldier finally raised to meet those of the Emperor of Sandora. "But I bring an urgent request."  
  
"Get on with it, then." Came a low voice, made ever the more dark as each year passed. Black and red armor, a strong decor braced against his sturdy frame, twitched in irritation as Doel shifted slightly forwards. "Has my nephew arrived?"  
  
"Not yet, you highness." Another quick bow. "His most devious Frugel wishes a moment of your time."  
  
Doel felt a staggering bulge of amusement trickle up into his voice, and it came from his throat as a cruel laugh of sorts. Leaning back into his seat, intent eyes flickering in the unnatural violet lighting that surrounded them, he gave a snort.  
  
"Devious eh? Frugel? That pompous tub of lard?"  
  
He noted the private's soft smirk as he nodded. "I'm afraid so, sire."  
  
"And did he put you up to that 'devious' remark as well, Soldier?"  
  
"Yes, Sire."  
  
Another harsh chuckle. Doel waved one hand and propped a heavy black boot onto the left crook of his throne. "Send the fat bastard in. You are excused, Brian."  
  
Somewhat startled that the emperor knew his name, and had used it, the soldier bowed once more and jogged away. Cruel a ruler as Doel was, it amazed a countless many that he could retain the identities of even the most trivial of human labor. Unfortunately, that was Brain.  
  
Such was life. He gave a mental shrug and turned on heel. Doel watched absently as the young man neared the spanning double entrance to his throne room, and opened the nearly black oak doors to reveal a massive figure. With a nod to the private, Brian scurried out and allowed the rather disturbing head warden to enter his chamber.  
  
"Thank you, Sire!" Came his ever so annoying voice. Somewhat of a lewd, barking sound. Built like a gawking, obese monkey; Doel did not respect nor tolerate the repulsive disgrace for a man beyond his abilities as an effective tool of fear. Who had not heard of the notorious Hellena prison? The place where innocents lay slain, tortured and beaten to death all in the name of Frugel's warped and sadistic perversions? TO be sent to Hellena was to be sent to hell.   
  
And Frugel always seemed to be giddy with that prospect. Afterall, should he run the equivalent of hell, then he should just as easily be rumored the Devil.  
  
"What do you want, beast." Doel spat in a somewhat bored tone, ever un-intimidated by the eight foot frame of muscle and fat. He, of all people, was one of very few that could get away with taunting the ugly creature. That in itself brought Doel a mixed form of entertainment. To watch Frugel stiffen and work his blubber laden lips with soundless curses.  
  
"I- your majesty... that is-"  
  
"Spit it out, fool."  
  
Thick slabs of armor cresting his shoulders and belt straps giving a loud 'creak' as they arched in vain over Frugel's spanning expanse of belly- the tall, bald man wrinkled his thick nose and gave the closest thing to a horse laugh Doel had ever heard.  
  
"Yes sire! At once!" And Frugel waved his stubby arms with flair, finally managing to prop them up over his massive hips. "I have come to brief you on our most recent preparations!"  
  
Doel listened with rising irritation as Frugel explained his 'preparation' of Hellena in receiving his majesty Albert. Truly, was this man THAT sick? And of course, the tall emperor realized what an utterly vain question that had been, seeing as how his instantaneous answer was a curt 'Yes.' He ran a hand through raven black, short cropped hair and sighed once. Shrewd eyes regarded the dismal length of his throne room. A chamber full of dark walls, furniture and light. All of the deepest violet shades, like a room eternally shrouded under nightfall.  
  
"Frugel?"  
  
The man paused, looked up at him. "Sire?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Another blank stare.  
  
"Yes- I told you to shut that ring of cellulite you call a mouth. Exactly how *well* have you been informed of my nephew's visitation? And may I stress that last word!? Bumbling idiot!" Doel slammed a fist into the thick arm of his throne.   
  
Frugels eyes drew to narrow slits, regarding Doel with a sort of annoyed curiosity. "You mean to tell me... you are literally accepting the prospect of a truce? I thought for certain this was a ploy we could use to finally dispose of that child!!"  
  
"If your meager brain capacity could register exactly how badly Sandora is fairing at the moment, you would understand why a truce is not such a ludicrous idea. Basil is no better off. By the gods- even I am not so stubborn as to refuse a chance at peace- If However temporary.   
  
Frugal looked as if he had been struck. Both beady black eyes wide and angry, his arms began to flap again. His dark skin deepened two or three shades. It was a rather odd display, as Frugel was not so brave as to raise his voice in the presence of a superior rank. nevermind the emperor himself. However, when it came to the disruption of his personal enjoyment over the pain of others...  
  
"WHAT!?" The warden barked, flustered voice coming off as unnaturally high. "How... By the GODS- have you gone COMPLETELY insane!? With your nephew in my hands, I have only to kill him!! I have only to slit that pretty little neck, and this war does not come to halt in truce! it comes to an END!!! *You* Would be ruler of all Serdio!!! And since when have YOU ever sought PEACE!?  
  
"Did, or did I NOT tell you to shut up?" Doel growled. "By manner of honor, and the rules of war; I will settle this dispute in fairness and-"   
  
Frugal gave that horse laugh again. "OH!! your a fair man, now!? YOU Doel, are nothing more what you had been that 'day' some 17 odd years ago! You couldn't kill him then, and you can't now- can you!? Only one word comes to mind, your majesty. Exactly how many other ways can one say 'COWARD'!?"  
  
Despite the fact that Doel stood an unimpressive 6'2 in comparison with the giant Frugel, the larger boulder of a man was overturned within the span of a breath. Doel, who had stood and lunged like a near wounded animal, held Frugel's fat face between two twin swords.  
  
Light and Darkness. They blades flickered with murderous intention.  
  
"Coward?" he hissed. Doel's lean arms held the larger man in place by the literal temptation of death. "No one insults me, you leech. Do not pretend to know better then I- Frugel. Do not attempt to second guess my ideals. With each of my actions there shall be a reaction in turn. THIS is why the strategy of war is not played by simple minded behemoths such as yourself. I am fully in control of the choices I make, and the outcomes they shall present. My nephew will have his time at your mercy, but that wretched life of his will not come to an end before my voice deals such an order. For now- a truce is in our best interests."  
  
Gasping and struggling under the lethal hold, Frugel squeaked as Doel leaned closer. One foot came down painfully on the heaving stomach beneath him.  
  
"Do we understand one another?"   
  
A jerky nod, concealed between rolls of flab.  
  
"Good. Because I assure you that further such insubordination will not be tolerated. Lloyd is very well educated in the ways of pain. Now get out of my sight."  
  
Doel released the warden, eyes still narrowed as he quietly replaced the twin swords at identical sheaths on either side of his throne. He sat back into his chair thereafter, watching with stern features as Frugel picked himself from the floor like a whipped pup. The short, and rather ludicrous red cape that flapped over his shoulders was quickly tossed back over a bulky left side.  
  
It was then that Doel realized, by the simple look on Frugels face, that something was rather wrong. Not to mention the fact that he didn't go running from the room.  
  
A moment or two passed- only broken by the nervous shuffling of Hellena's warden.  
  
"Your still here, Frugel..." Doel ventured. He wanted the ugly bastard out of his damned chamber.  
  
"I.. sire.. That is... in light of your recent decisions..." And his voice certainly held none of the contempt of before, but rather an anxious, building fear.  
  
Doel locked his fingers and raised a brow in sarcastic patience. "What is it!?"  
  
More shuffling. "I had been certain your nephew would be taken immediately to Hellena on arrival-! And, I.. it seemed only logical that, to avoid any conflict in the city itself, he... what I mean is- I had a crew dispatched to-!!!"  
  
The emperor of Sandora held a tight expression- intense eyes burning into that of his obese subservient.   
  
"Clarify." He spoke slowly... voice like daggers.  
  
Frugel swallowed sharply. "A prison crew of my mercenaries was issued to intercept and incapacitate his majesty Albert just around noon yesterday. It just seemed a... a rational action at the time! I thought it would prove most convenient for you! For your plans concer-"  
  
Doel stood, and Frugel fell silent.  
  
""You issued an order of *that* nature, did NOT inform me..." His sentence trailed off, scowl deepening.   
  
"Sire, I-!"  
  
"YOU-" And Doel's voice boomed into the room. "Will be *dealt* with appropriately. But as of now- please define your use of the word, *incapacitate*!!!"  
  
He watched, with some underlying twinge of horror, as Frugel allowed something like a smile to slip over his face.  
  
------------  
  
Serdio- eighteen miles west of Seles on the following morning.  
  
------------   
  
Runners, long ago referred to as 'horses' before that errant species had become extinct, had senses far more keen then any Night Hound, May Fox, and certainly surpassed that of any human. It was only a reasonable development to have the large, stead fast creatures domesticated over time. They provided an excellent method of travel and served in the ways of protection as well. Should something be amiss, the large, clever animals could realize something was wrong far before their master would become aware of any such mishap.  
  
That was some of the reason why Albert watched his mare curiously. Patience was somewhat perturbed it seemed- lifting her head cautiously from the stream at which she drank. The Runner would keep her gaze level and intent a few moments, testing the air with a quick- almost lizard like tongue... and then returning to the fresh water.  
  
He sighed and leaned quietly against the tree at his back.  
  
"Your majesty..." Derrick began. A tall, thin knight with dull brown hair and a constant smile, he was making a comical procedure of a simple task... trying with all his skill to thread his saddle correctly. "I just.. No- I don't get how this works...! What did you say again? About the loops? And then-" he coughed as Elizabeth (His Runner) gave a curt snort and wobbled her head.  
  
Albert smiled, albeit a bit thinly, as his thoughts were somewhat both distracted and distant. Pushing himself up from the ground, he approached the knight and turned Elizabeth to the side with a slight tug on her leather reigns.  
  
She blinked at him, and gave another snort.  
  
"Take the tethers hanging aside her flank..." he began to instruct, watching as the knight did just that. "Yes- that's right. Now tighten them just slightly and bring the buckle up behind ... Derrick- I really wouldn't-!"  
  
But he did- fastening the long buckle that connected his saddle far to high. In turn- the threads of the equipment tightened a bit to abruptly, and the Runner did not take kindly to his action. A toss of hooves- an irritated growl....  
  
Derrick sighed and stared up at the sky from his new vantage over the forest floor. Elizabeth, who had promptly thrown him to the ground, gave something like a satisfied neigh.  
  
"I hate that Runner." He commented absently as Albert helped him up. "Lavits will die for giving me the one single animal out of our entire stable that has an attitude problem!" he glared at the mare who lifted her head indifferently.  
  
"That-" the king interjected. "Or I'll kill him first for having you come along." Albert began to thread the saddle himself, carefully watching Elizabeth should she decided to become irritated with him. Some few feet away, Patience had begun back to their small camp. Her chestnut hair gleamed slightly with stream water.   
  
"Sire-" And Derrick brushed his pantlegs free of bramble and soil. "With all due respect, I have to second Lavit's choice to have me escort you to Kanzas. It's only safer, your majesty." He gave a smile. "And if your annoyed because-"  
  
Albert raised a thin gloved hand and cocked a brow. "I'm simply a bit flustered Derrick, and I apologize. Honestly- I should have figured Lavits would send someone after me by the time I was to far out to turn back... and I can't order you to return to the capitol."  
  
Derrick gave a wry grin and pulled out a letter from his side pouch. Lavits had guessed that Albert would immediately return him to Bale even after intercepting his travel, and so sent him along with a few important documents to be delivered at Seles. Turning Derrick away would be a waste of time and energy, as the town was directly on route to Kanzas.   
  
"Face it, he's got you down to a science." Derrick waved the envelope once and return it to his pack.  
  
"Oh, be quiet." The king of Serdio remarked dryly. As of now, there was nothing he could do but vow to lecture his friend upon return. Lavits wouldn't be getting off easy this time... the way to Kanzas was dangerous and long. Either way- he was still very familiar with the territory, and if his uncle's arrangement DID prove hostile, Derrick would be another life placed in danger.  
  
"If your ready, Let's begin again. The Runners are rested enough to continue..."  
  
Derrick nodded. Watched quietly as Albert quickly shifted his cape to one side and lifted himself easily upon the back of Patience. Riding certainly wasn't a foreign concept to the young king if the way he handled himself was any indication. The Knight was somewhat caught off guard really... upon meeting up with Albert some few hours back, he hadn't been sure what to expect. Someone rather aloof and cold? A person who would act superior and harsh? This was the first time he had ever served in the more personal space of their king... and he was surprised.  
  
Albert treated him no differently then he would treat a friend. Respect and courtesy... some degree of humor. It seemed almost odd. He hadn't even been that angry when learning about the orders Lavits had given. More like concerned- and for -him- on top of it.  
  
"Thanks for gearing her up correctly..." Derrick said as he mounted Elizabeth. For once- the saddle didn't slide and jerk under his weight as it would at any other time. He really *would* have to get that procedure down at some point. Tie... loop... buckle? Gah...!!! The knight decided not to think about that *just* now... and instead gazed up into the shimmering blue sky of early morning. It really was rather calming... the forest that surrounded them was quiet and smelt of wildflowers.   
  
Derrick had just begun to walk Elizabeth forwards when something razor sharp and lightning fast shot into the flesh of his back.  
  
"Albert-!" And he just had time enough to shout the warning before his body toppled forwards to the ground, rolling once as his Runner gave a scream of alarm. Not two seconds later and she was silent, an arrow sending the poor creature to it's knees and into death.  
  
Cross bows... very accurate.  
  
"Derrick!?"   
  
Patience whirled around on her hooves, crying loudly. Albert shook away strands of ash blonde from his sight, leaping off his mount and running forwards to where Derrick had fallen. He dropped to one knee an instant later- hands up and searching.  
  
Derrick gave a stifled groan of pain when he found the hilt of an arrow. Lodged within his back with precise and deadly intent, the weapon had struck true to his right lung.  
  
"Don't move!" Albert said quietly, eyes scanning the forest once and then moving back to the agitated Patience. He judged his own sight by her frightened eyes... pinned above in the tree's. Where she looked he turned his gaze. The Runner would know better where their enemies hid.  
  
"They Shot Liz'..." And Derrick swallowed a good deal of blood before it began to spill over the sides of his mouth. Focus distorted, the knight fumbled to reach for his sword even as Albert pressed him back and rolled him on his side.  
  
"Don't move, Derrick. Stay still..." Albert's left hand was pressed deep against his wound, voice urgent.  
  
"I..." again, the hand went for his sword. "Run! Your majesty-"  
  
"Quiet." And Albert's free hand clamped down firm over his mouth. Around them, the forest was again as silent and peaceful as before. Breath somewhat ragged, Derrick looked up through glazed eyes at his king. They exchanged a glance, and the blood that leaked from Elizabeth's body began to tang the air.  
  
"Did you see them, Derrick?" Again, Albert looked towards patience.  
  
This turn around, the knight couldn't manage breath enough to talk. He gasped very slightly, and shook his head violently as a wrack of coughing overcame him. The air rushed unnaturally and caught more then a few times. It was easy enough for Albert to tell that his injury was serious.  
  
"No- don't talk then. I understand." One hand gripped his own. "Stay as still as you can. Your lung is pierced, and removing or dislodging the arrow will have you bleeding internally.  
  
Derrick tried to smile, eyes struggling to keep focus under the pain. "S..some j..ob I did... of.. pro.. protect..." He gasped. "Mm.. sSo..rry.  
  
"Hush. You just stay awake. Don't move."  
  
Patience began to scream.  
  
Albert brought out a thick metal rod from his side pack, perhaps five inches in length. With one smooth click of some hidden latch at it's middle, two long rods unsheathed themselves from either end of the device and expanded within the span of half a second. A glinting metal head completed the spear- snapping forwards at the head of the weapon and catching slivers of light.  
  
He looked to the Runner- who milled her hooves in the soft earth but refused to run. She was a loyal creature. Frightened and agitated, but not willing to leave. He signaled her down, and Patience uneasily settled back on her haunches. Lips upturned and fangs glinting, the mare began to whine.  
  
Albert held his breath, listening.  
  
A sharp click echoed off into the distance. Again- the crossbow.  
  
When Patience turned her eyes above, Albert turned his body. He was up and moving in one solid motion, thrusting his spear above and to the right without second glance or thought. His weapon cut through the air with a defiant, clean rush of sound- and someone gave a scream.   
  
"Barei!!" he heard a voice yell in response to whomever had been wounded. Crimson splattered onto the forest floor from above, where he had hefted the spear. As his weapon returned to earth a few meters from the wounded Derrick, more voices joined the blood tinged air.  


"God DAMN! Get the little bastard!"  
  
"Gareth-! My chest...!!!"  
  
A body fell from the branches above, crashing to earth with yet another scream. It was cut short as the man connected with the solid ground... and Albert stared a moment in tense uncertainty.  
  
~There are at least three hidden from view. Possibly more.~   
  
"Patience..." Albert called softly, and the Mare began towards him with cautious steps. He was very afraid that any moment and another arrow would claim her life as she came quietly to his side, muzzle twisting to the scent of an injured human. He motioned her down by the reigns, placing her between both Derrick and the body of his dead Runner. At the very least, they wouldn't be able to see him easily. If they noticed the knight was not dead...  
  
Albert quickly moved to where his spear had fallen and picked it from the ground. A defensive pose taken to with ease, there was really no choice but to stand and fight. Were these Doel's men? Simple thieves? he twirled his spear and glared into the forest.  
  
"Show yourselves!" Albert commanded- the formidable tone and strength of his voice rather surprising to the young king.  
  
A silence broken only by melodious birds ensued. Albert grit his teeth and searched the tree's.  
  
Above, shielded only by the dense forest vegetation.. One could slightly make out the form of an older soldier. The clear light of early morning caught his face and clothing. The breeze ruffled a stark black bandana that lay strapped over a broad forehead.  
  
He knew only officers of Hellena prison to wear such identification.  
  
~ What!? ~  
  
"Start screaming- kid!"   
  
Albert let out a startled gasp as he was violently shoved forwards into the ground. His body instantly attempted to spring back upwards, but a heavy boot struck his side- and another fell over his head. Gasping for the breath that had been knocked from his lungs, Albert was forced down once again.   
  
His vision spun in shades of forest green. Black. Shadows played over the ground behind him.  
  
"Oh- FUN!" A man snorted. "THIS is the goddamned king of Basil? What a priss!" And another hard kick slammed itself into his gut. Albert breathed in a mix of dirt and blood, hearing his Runner begin to bellow urgently from somewhere to his right. A strong grip wrapped itself in his hair and snapped Albert's neck upwards.  
  
"Hrmph." Laughing. The voices of five or six different people. Seven if you counted the bowman in the tree's. Eight before their comrade, wounded by Albert's spear, fell to his death.  
  
"You know... we have very specific instructions as to what should be done with you..." one of the men snarled into his left ear. Still, he could not see them, face once again pressed into the ground. "After we get to Hellena, that is. For now, we're just going to wing this."  
  
Cruel, mocking laughter.  
  
"You'd be surprised what a person can live though, your highness. How is that poor Knight fairing? The guy you killed got in a pretty nice shot to his back, if I remember correctly.  
  
Albert growled a sharp; "Leave him out of th-!!!" And received another hard blow in return.   
  
"I hate you royal brats. Shut up- it'll do ya' good."   
  
A strong hand gripped his shoulder and rolled Albert to his back. Against the clear blue sky and sage leaves above, his assailants were a crude image. Blocky, harsh men. All dressed in almost identical uniforms- with the black bandana tied at each hairline. For those that had hair, in anycase. They reminded him more of brutish inmates then soldiers.  


"heh- the other guy is dead, boss." Said one of the six figures. Standing by the body of Elizabeth and the frightened patience, he kicked Derrick once in the arm- nudging over the unresponsive body.  
  
Albert squeezed his eyes shut. "No!"  
  
"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" One of the soldiers growled. His boot raised again, a sinister smile spreading across his face.  
  
~I think NOT!~  
  
With one lightning quick flash of motion- Albert struck out his left foot. All the force he could manage slammed into the kneecap of the closest Hellena soldier, and it burst backwards with a terrible snap. The entire leg twisted- and a strangled scream ripped itself from the throat of his captor.  
  
There was a very brief period of shock before all five remaining men realized what had happened.  
  
The others rushed forwards- but the chance was enough. Albert leapt up from the ground and reached for his discarded weapon. All in the same motion his frame flipped to the right and struck. A multitude of blows that, unleashed with the help of his graceful partisan, allowed Albert the ability to distance himself from the soldiers. Patience again began to bellow in the calamity of motion- and she reared in fright. Sliced through the ground with her strong legs.  
  
The nearest soldier gave a grunt of pain as Albert's whirling spear connected with his head- and that was all. The other four jumped back and kept their distance as he fell to the damp earth.  
  
Albert steadied his breathing. Regarding his enemies coolly and tried to gather his thoughts.  
  
~Fool!! The one in the tree!~  
  
Above, a crossbow clicked one more.  
  
Although speed was not a trait that escaped him, Albert felt the pull of metal against his flesh as a screeching arrow tore into, and through his arm. Had he not moved to the side, it would have lodged itself directly within the back of his neck. A groan sputtered from his mouth as he staggered to the right and clamped one hand over the wound.  
  
"Hrrr- allow me to HELP with THAT!" someone spat. It was from the largest man in the group from Hellena- raising both fists and flying towards him with a curved dagger held dangerously in either palm.  
  
Albert blinked- sidestepped. Swung.  
  
The three remaining soldiers were hesitant now. They watched with some sort of morbid understanding as the blade of Albert's spear still held it's prey in a loose grip. The human skull that had been impaled upon it's tip slowly gave way, and Albert let the man slide dead at his feet. Alert Hazel eyes moved from the body, to the tree's, to the men still standing. He let out a long breath.  
  
"Please..." And Albert's voice shook just slightly. "Stop this. No one else needs to die."  
  
"Frugel didn't say he could -fight-!!!!" The smallest of their group snarled, oblivious. All three debated. Moved and then halted.   
  
"You'll pay for this, royalty." One of the three sneered in contempt. He raised a hand and motioned the other two to accompany his charge. "Hope you like pain."  
  
Albert readied his spear.  
  
The next actions were fast, furious and over nearly as quickly as they had begun. Albert was always the quicker, and although strength could not keep him alive; the speed and skill with which he fought was utterly the key in victory. Crimson splattered the reddish bark nearby, streaked across the deep colored hide of Patience and the dead Elizabeth.  
  
The last blow fell on the man in the tree's, who had all but jumped down into the awaiting, lethal edge of Albert's spear. It had not even been an intentional strike, but by the time the last Hellena soldier realized his position was doomed to be a fatal one- the king had already thrust his weapon directly into his chest.  
  
With the exception of the loud, moaning soldier whose leg was bent inwards, everyone was dead.  
  
***   
  
"Honestly Frugel... you've gone and irritated Doel AGAIN have you?" A massive, humiliating slap marked red the Warden's bulky face.   
  
"Shut up you silver haired freak. I did what was necessary."  
  
"YOU did.." And Lloyd paced about his form like a vulture of sorts. "What you thought would be *fun*. Tell me, Frugel, why do the most of those prisoners whom you keep in Hellena die before I've been given a chance to interrogate them?"  
  
Giving a slight laugh, Frugel rolled his eyes.  
  
Lloyd simply regarded him with a mix of annoyance and general distaste. "Alright, then. I'll answer your question. Very simply, your a sadist. Every new death brings you some form of twisted pleasure. An opportunity to kill the ruler of Basil must have offered you quick a kick, if you were even willing to go out and fetch him yourself.  
  
A Yawn. "Oh- you have my number NOW- don't you!? Think about it, Lloyd. To slay someone in that kind of power does not bring only HIM pain. It effects thousands. If Doel was planning to kill the brat as it was, what's wrong with my taking a little liberty with his execution? Either way you look at it Albert will eventually end up dead. I think with all the good service I've put into this country, I at least have rights to the end of that petty boy."  
  
In the dismal, sickly light around them, one hard blow rang throughout the deep, cavernous tunnels. Long earthen rooms, rattling wooden elevators and rotting bridges crisscrossed the true foundation of Hellena prison. Shook each time a bolt of lightning might strike the massive, sixty eight story's of rock and wood that stood precariously just off the south Serdian coastline.  
  
With a slight muffled sound of pain, Frugel turned his head to one side and spit three or four bloody teeth from his mouth. They dropped to the earth floor with a soft patter.   
  
Lloyd lowered his arm, flexing the fingers of his right hand as if in preparation to strike again. His lean body moved close to the Warden, black vest, boots and pants giving a soft sheen of red as it caught the light of nearby torches. His crimson eyes flickered briefly.  
  
"Death is not a game. Death is the universal end to time, and killing is the end of innocence. When you take a life Frugel, you smile and laugh like some spoiled little child. You do not think of the person- of who they are or who they might have been. You simply watch that look of agony on their features and giggle madly like the beast you are. I swear to the gods that I will teach you to respect life. Whether it be that of a man, woman or child. Of a damned blade of grass... You'll learn."  
  
Frugel had the audacity to smile upwards. His lumpy body, secured to the floor by chains alone, buckled slightly in laughter.  
  
"Is that a threat, *sir!?*" he cackled madly.   
  
"It certainly is, Frugel." Lloyd narrowed his eyes. "Doel has already left to find and dispose of those soldiers you sent after Albert."  
  
"Doel? He went after them?" A pause. " Useless! Any moment now and my men will drag that stupid relative of his through the front gates of Hellena!!! You wanted him here anyway, right!? Although I can't KILL the boy as initially planned..."   
  
"In the discussion of a truce, attacking the other party before reaching any mutual agreement will not strengthen our trust. Idiot. You underestimate Doel's nephew. He is young, but skilled. Luckily. Do you even have the slightest idea of what could happen if Albert dies now? of what that would do to the Emperors plans- and my own ideals?"  
  
Frugel grimaced. "Stupid dog. I honestly don't care about whatever personal gains your after."  
  
A brief silence.  
  
This time, Lloyd let a very wicked smile slip over his features. It was Frugel's turn to look uneasy... and the Warden tried to force a similar defiant grin.  
  
"What are you smiling at, idiot!?"  
  
Lloyd rolled his neck. "I was just wondering... that- if you ARE a sadist- which indeed, I believe to be true... Perhaps your somewhat of a masochist as well, eh?" He unsheathed a knife from the twin sling belts that hung at his side. Frugel froze.  
  
"For your sake? Lets hope so."  
  
---------  
  
Some four hours later...  
  
---------   
  
Everytime Albert was forced to kill, regardless of the outcome, a stark wetness invaded his eyes as he tried to justify the taking of another human life.  
  
~You had to defend yourself. There is no wrong in staying alive!~  
  
But there was already so much death. Senseless, irreversible slaughter. What right did he have? What right did ANYONE have to deny another person the threads of existence?  
  
In all truth though, he couldn't think about that. Not now. Derrick -thank the gods- had not died as was previously speculated by the solider from Hellena. His condition had worsened dramatically, but he was still breathing. A faint pulse beat slowly along his wrist.  
  
Albert held him there for a few moments, counting silently.  
  
"Rraa---aaGHH!" Came a voice behind him. It was the single soldier that had survived. Awake again, it seemed. Albert ignored the throb over his wounded shoulder and carefully shifted Derrick to one side, trying to ease his shallow breathing. When the shorter man from Hellena had abruptly rolled him over, the arrow dislodged and worsened his injury.

"You'll be alright." He spoke quietly. Although unsure if Derrick could hear him, it didn't really matter. Albert needed that reassurance nearly as much as the knight himself would. One hand shifted over the bloody ground and pushed him upwards a moment after. To Patience.  
  
The Runner was advancing on the wounded soldier- her head thrusting forwards and back with hostile motions against her reigns. Albert had already twice restrained his mare, and then resolved earlier on to simply tie her straps around the nearest branch.  
  
She'd trample the wounded man if allowed. This- he knew for certain.  
  
Again the soldier let out a moan of sorts, and Albert quickly turned his head in the direction of the agonized noise. His name -or nickname- was tattooed into the calf of the injured leg. Albert found it to read 'Baron' upon closer inspection some few minutes ago... when he had finished setting the leg of his enemy. By chance, or perhaps luck, the man had been unconscious at the time.  
  
But beginning to regain consciousness, he would easily be met with a great deal of pain.  
  
"Patience- stop..." And Albert waved an arm at the mare, trying to calm her nerves as he stood and began over to 'Baron' with quick, but cautious steps. Assorted brambles and vegetation cracked lightly into the air of early afternoon; A product of his light frame moving swiftly over the forest floor. Perhaps two hours had passed between his encounter with the men from Hellena and the present scenario. It had been a strenuous one... Wounds considered and graves dug. All that remained now from the previous struggle were assorted streams of crimson.   
  
As soon as the soldier saw him approach, the man flinched and instantly jerked upwards in search of a weapon. His mangled leg, however, did not take so kindly to that action. The ash blonde could literally see his face contort in stages as the pain shot throughout his body.   
  
"Stop!" Albert hissed. "Your going to make it worse..." And he came beside Baron as he had with Derrick, pressing him flat to the ground. "Move and it's only going to become more painful."  
  
"Funny you should care!!" The man strangled out. He was stocky, perhaps up to Albert's chin in height, with raven black hair and angry blue eyes. Baron hefted one shoulder forwards and tossed a fist in Albert's general direction.  
  
He caught it, and held the arm immobile.  
  
"Don't be a fool. I'm trying to help!"  
  
"And why would you do that!?"  
  
"Even the more intelligent can be foolish." A sudden voice shot up from behind them.  
  
Albert froze. Instant ice that shivered as if with the very feeling of it's own coldness. He recognized the strong, even voice. The deep understanding in it. Intelligent if in a brutal sort of way. Hand still clenched tightly over the arm that had attempted to strike him, Albert released the soldier and pursed his lips. There was a rustle of cloth. Movement.  
  
~Oh, dear gods... what have I gotten myself into?~  
  
It was a pathetic thought- but a true one, all the same.  
  
"Sweet Goddess, you've grown." And the voice changed directions, coming alongside of him. Albert still could not quite will himself to turn and look upon the bearer of that absent comment. Whatever it was that prevented him from doing so was an old thing. He didn't approve of it.  
  
Before further thought could evade him, however, something lightning fast passed just by his head. Startled his mind and body when twin splatters of red painted his face in errant patterns.  
  
The soldier gasped once... and then fell silent. The head of a spear was buried deep within his chest.   
  
THAT- got him moving.  
  
But when he *met* the gaze of his uncle... a man he had not seen in over fifteen years, Albert felt his jaw work in silent outrage. His body refused to move despite a conscious part of his mind that recognized the need to bear arms. He wiped at his messed features. At the blood. Stared and felt his own breathing come in somewhat raspy gasps.  
  
~Infection.... your shoulder...  
  
I...Can't think- not that... friend or foe?  
  
He was at an utter, and complete loss.  
  
***  
  
Doel realized some few hours after leaving Kanzas that he did not know who he was looking for.  
  
The Hellena soldiers would have been easy to spot- their identification headbands and gruff exteriors considered. But Albert? The years would have changed him drastically by now. Grown out the thin, lanky body he remembered. Tall for his age even at six years, surely Albert would be his height- if not taller still... Although he doubted sincerely that the prince would have become large as his 7'5 father. When Doel looked upon him- who would he see more of? Carlo? The long dead queen Alexia? Curiosity, if however a ludicrous feeling, welled inside the Sandorian Emperor.  
  
And then... he could feel some degree of worry as well.  
  
Doel knew enough of Albert' thinking to realize he would never travel with knight's from the castle Indels as a form of protection. Doing so placed more life in danger- and drew attention. Gods knew Albert had a somewhat sickening value for life. Yet If the soldiers had found him? With eight in total, suppose their methods of capture had seriously wounded his nephew? And then... he thought less of that. Because Albert had been trained to fight by the well known Lavits Slambert. It was more likely those guards would have been *incapacitated* themselves... if he was to use Frugel's terming.  
  
But suppose he did fight well and the soldiers would resort to using deadly force? Frugel had been intending on killing him anyway... and the group from Hellena would not be so hindered in their orders by means of simple chivalry.  
  
It hadn't mattered at that moment. He had only to find the king of basil. Doel was sure that -when he saw him- (despite whatever concerns floundered about his thoughts-) he would know.  
  
And he had.  


~There....!~  
  
Of course, he was not certain at first. Following the route taken by Frugel's men, he had passed many travelers and seen little of the features he might expect to find on Albert. The young royalty's parentage was exotic- and the prince too had carried a distinct look. Traveling by Runner, he was careful on evaluating that fact.,.. but then- all at once it seemed to click. And he saw someone thin, tall, lethal in his own respect. Hair long and unbidden. Face set.  
  
What had honestly made Doel cut through the Hauestus Forest, he would never know. But some few odd miles west of Seles, he found his nephew.  
  
His nephew- tending to the injuries of a Hellena dog, on top of it. Bracing a mangled knee that had -quite obviously- been kicked out in some form of struggle. Upon nearing he had counted seven graves. Two Runners, with one dead... a wounded knight. The surviving beast raised it's head at his approach and bared her fangs... but she was tied and he was quiet.   
  
"Don't be a fool, I'm trying to help!" he heard the ash blonde half hiss, half plead. His voice was somewhat light and carried an accent that sent Doel's mind reeling. He had retained it from Alexia without question. Distinct Serdian- a hard dialect to preserve in today's day and age.  
  
"And why would you do that!?" The Soldier snapped back at him, an arm raised as if to strike. Neither but the Runner knew of his presence. Logically speaking, that would have to change...  
  
Gathering his breath, Doel realized something more. How *did* he go about addressing this man... this figure- who was a chid he remembered limp and shocked in his arms. A relative- and foe. The king of Basil.  
  
Family and friends of any other sort could shout a name- smile and embrace. Distance of time left them only the more happy to see one another again.  
  
But the last time Albert had seen him- it was with a sword pressed to his neck and a dead father strewn across the cold marble nearby.  
  
What -could- he say?  
  
And yet- both Sandora and Basil needed this truce. He needed it to attain future ideals. Lloyd needed this break to gather his plans. His further conquests. Their meeting again, despite whatever passage of years separated he and Albert, was unavoidable. And Doel had dreaded it's coming since the day of Carlo's death.   
  
~Goddamnit Frugel.... you don't have any idea what fates you were tempting...~   
  
And then, Finally.....  
  
"Even the more intelligent can be foolish." He almost whispered, answering the ragged comment that had previously come from the moaning soldier.  
  
Who, Doel resolved, would have to die.  
  
***   
  
Questions consumed him. Many- very harsh and very fast. For one reason or another his wounded shoulder decided *just* now to become very painful, but in either case Albert ignored the throb and tried to piece together his thoughts.  
  
He failed miserably.  
  
Which, in turn, resulted in an expression he could only describe as numb creeping over his features. One hand listlessly gestured back to the now dead Hellena soldier. Wavered in the air as he turned his eyes up towards his uncle. In not finding anything to say, he managed only; "Why?!"  
  
Doel blinked. His face was stern and controlled- a facade Albert had never known to break or scratch with ease. Amazing that he hadn't changed. Everything he remembered was still intact. That same face- looming over his own . The steel that had bit at his neck just before Albert remembered loosing consciousness.  
  
~I can't... believe I still recall...~  
  
But then, how could he forget.   
  
"I rather pose the question; "Why save him?" Then otherwise. The fool tried to kill you. Now get up."  
  
"He was acting under orders..." Albert said quickly, and found his voice beginning to raise in volume. "ONLY orders! You.. t.. there was no REASON...!"  
  
"Honestly... are you still that frail?" And Doel's eyes were set as he then turned to regard the Wounded knight." We obviously can't stay here. Let us go to Lohan- the city is commercial and does not hold loyalty to either Sandora nor Basil. Come."  
  
Albert just looked at him as if he was insane. Staggered to his feet. Doel took a step back and crossed his arms as his nephew quietly took up a defensive stance. His weapon, a spear by choice, came up in one hand.  
  
"Your going to fight me with a shoulder in that condition?" Doel asked, incredulous.  
  
"I was attacked, and my friend was seriously injured by eight men from Hellena. Your prison." Albert straightened up and swallowed hard, ignoring his comment. "Last I checked, this was not the proper way for two whom are supposed to meet under the pretense of a truce!"  
  
Doel knew where this was going. Blinked under the high sun that filtered through the canopy of green forest above. "This was not my intent."  
  
"Oh? And so do you stroll from Kanzas everyday? Go for long walks in these very woods on a regular basis? You have no reason to be here..."  
  
"Sarcastic? you? I had no idea..."  
  
"Spare me you humor, uncle."  
  
"Done." The emperor of Sandora took a quick breath, debating over the situation and the best way to handle his relative. Albert had good reason to suspect him in ill intentions... so now the task was changing this opinion. His gaze traveled briefly over Albert's somewhat shaken frame... the wounded shoulder. He obviously *could* fight... but there was a difference between fighting and... fighting. In one respect- you were able and willing. In another- you were able... but NEVER willing. His nephew had seen, shared, and dealt blood before, but Doel had never really known what a toll it could take on the man.   
  
Albert would die very quickly if he could not distance himself from those he killed. Doel had gained that ability long ago.  
  
"Trust me." He began, laughable a sentence as it seemed. "Please. I'll explain everything on the way."  
  
Albert seemed taken slightly aback, as if he had been expecting a charge- a duel. Another fight of SOME sort. The spear he held lowered just slightly, and he winced as the heavy weapon strained on his wound.  
  
Doel continued. "But- we should leave the knight. He's sure to die anyway you look at this. Get your Runner and-"  
  
"OUT of the question." Albert nearly growled. "Derrick is alive, and he will remain that way. The man was injured because of me."  
  
~Guilt like that won't do you well. Do you blame yourself for every death Basil takes?~ And Doel narrowed his eyes slightly, regarding Albert's alert gaze. "To do so would be foolish. He'll take up time and energy."  
  
Albert's glare turned almost feral. "I will handle him on my own. You've no need to worry about straining yourself."   
  
Doel relented and gave a small nod, watching as one of Albert's hands came up and slapped at a fall of loose ash blonde . The strands were tossed back over his head quickly, and Doel could see the fastening of a light green harness that kept his hair tied back. All of his attire was rather earthen. Appropriate, Doel supposed. A simple, long sleeved vest slide that was sage green. Light chest armor and belt band...with quite the heavy cape thrown over his shoulders. Funny that he should manage to look both simple and royal at the same time. Rather different from Doel's own traveling gear, which was black and brown. Rough fighting attire he'd broken well and bled in thoroughly.  
  
"Sire..." A weak voice managed.  
  
Doel jolted his speculations to Albert- who had moved across the deep blackish soil to the wounded knight. Derrick, was his name? Carefully placed on his side to improve breathing at some earlier hour, Albert was with him once more. His nephew carefully pulled him up from the ground, slightly turned his head to get the man's attention.  
  
"We're leaving. How do you feel?"  
  
The knight gave a convulsive shudder. "I'm ... f..ine."  
  
Albert nodded and carefully shifted his weight to the right, on his good arm. "Alright, but this will hurt. Stay still, it will be over in a moment. We'll get help."  
  
Doel twitched his nose slightly. "We don't have time to find a damned doctor fo-"  
  
"Uncle, pardon me..." And Albert raised his eyes to the Sandoran. "But shut up."  
  
The raven haired Doel smirked lightly.  
  
Derrick seemed somewhat perturbed now that the other voice had been given a label within his earshot. Uncle? Surely Albert couldn't mean... but his mind faltered over the thought as his king lifted him from the forest floor. As warned, his back and chest shook with a sharp pain. Derrick grit his teeth.  
  
Doel still found the concept ridiculous. Saving this man, of whom would not in any good reason make it to Lohan alive. Still, something odd caught in his thoughts as he watched his nephew. The younger struggled gracefully, if that could even be possible, to get the Knight up upon the broad back of his Runner. It took only one try and not a quirk of folly, but he could see the pain on Albert's face. Again Doel's eyes shifted to the wound at his shoulder.... obviously deep and bleeding with strain.  
  
He simply wasn't used to meeting people who cared... was that it?  
  
"Patience..." And that was the name of his Runner it seemed. "Calm, please."  
  
Albert had quietly adjusted her reigns in the span of mere seconds, running a hand through the chestnut hair that adorned her thick hide. Doel raised a brow at the beast, as she was quite intent on him now. A smart one, he supposed. Her gaze was very wary and very understanding.  
  
She stomped the ground in agitation as Doel flashed a grin. Albert simply shot him a glance, and then mounted the runner directly behind Derrick. It would be awkward to keep the knight still and balanced, but he seemed determined enough. With only one hand catching her lead straps, Albert blinked once. Gave Doel a very long look.  
  
"Let's go, then."  
  
And Doel nodded, raised his head and gave a sharp whistle. From not to far off, a heavy pounding vibrated through the tree's. The trio watched expectantly as Doel's Runner- pitch black and large as a Bull, came galloping onto the scene.  
  
Patience growled, and Dark (Doel's beast) snorted a cocky reply.  
  
"Hnn... Shut up, you." Doel thwacked the buck affectionately and pulled himself up across it's massive shoulders. His neck craned to look at Albert. "Your sure you can handle that Derrick fellow and your injury? Do you have a healing potion?"  
  
Patience came up beside Doel's mount, and Albert shook his head. "I used them to keep Derrick alive."  
  
"Huh. I have a few, if you need them."  
  
Again, Albert gave him a long look. His thoughts hidden very well behind sharp hazel eyes. "I thank you for your concern, but the wound is infected. I'll have to treat it once we arrive in Lohan."  
  
Doel regarded him coolly. "Lohan won't have what you'll need for the wound- and no one said I was concerned. Infected or not you've lost blood. We can't have you dying now, can we?" And Something defiant crossed Doel's face as his thoughts added a silent; 'Yet'  
  
At a later time, he might have admitted to a bit of surprise, then. As Albert straightened and held Derrick firm. Sort of like a smile- if not however thin and intense, crossed the face of his nephew. Almost as if he had heard Doel's thoughts, the Sandoran found something he had not expected to confront over Albert's expression.   
  
Clear, and open challenge.  


-----  
Revised 7/24/01  
Chapter 2 -- Final. (Completed)  
  


   [1]: mailto:RaptorJNB@aol.com



	2. And to Lohan they Travel...

~*In the Coming of a Truce*~

*In the Coming of a Truce*  
A Legend of Dragoon Fanfiction -- Chapter 2  
Written by Rap's ([RaptorJNB@aol.com][1])  


--------------------  
  
Now isn't it funny  
That we should know, but not see.  
And that through time despite change-  
Nothing had mattered.  
  
-------------------  
Two hours later....  
-------------------  
  
  
  
Lohan honestly pissed Doel off.  
  
He had forgotten exactly how loud and alive the town was. Buildings upon crowded buildings lined every corner. Stairs and walkways seemed to extend like spider webs throughout the entirety of the town. There was no greenery, no natural decor other then the trampled earth underfoot... and the *people.* By god, how noisy they were. Merchants and traders and screaming children, squealing as they chased one another throughout the streets.   
  
A sigh.  
  
Even so, the town also served it's purpose. No one honestly gave a damn that the two most powerful sovereigns in Endiness now walked casually through it's heart.  
  
They wouldn't have been recognized in anycase.   
  
The travel on route to Lohan had been... interesting Doel supposed. Thinking briefly of it now as he and Albert paced their Runners quietly through the mad streets. He had explained everything- and his nephew had listened intently throughout. His discussion with Frugel, the warden's liberty with his position. The Hellena soldiers.   
  
From what he could tell, Albert accepted his explanation.  
  
And then there was still that odd tension. The personal uncertainty and hostility that neither could shake. Both of them knew that they were not here to speak about the past- but of the future... and yet Doel hated the feeling that passed between them both. It spoke of memories and hurts and hates. A silent reminder of who they were and what had begun the Serdian war.  
  
~Doel.~ He remembered quietly, the voice reaching far into his past. ~End it.~   
  
Doel feared that aspect of their meeting over all else. Forever ago it seemed, but reunited the wounds seemed fresh and pungent. It still amazed him slightly that they had *not* met with swords flying. Something in the back of his mind had sparked that possibility far before his consideration of a truce ever developed.  
  
He knew very well that he had destroyed a good deal of Albert's life 'that day.' Six years old, and then the sudden ruler of a country on the brink of war.  
  
"Derrick." And Doel turned his head to regard his relative as Albert brought Patience to a stop. The emperor of Sandora worked his jaw a moment, and halted Dark as well. The bull, who had been mindlessly avoiding civilians underfoot, gave a snort of annoyance.  
  
"This won't take me long." Albert said firmly, dismounting and carefully taking the wounded knight down from the saddle. "The man in this building-" And he pointed to a large establishment at their right. "Is one of the most experienced doctors in Lohan. I will leave Derrick under his care, and return for him after we are through in discussion."  
  
Doel shifted his jaw slightly, regarding the massive framework of the building in front of him. It was huge- laden with levels and doors and assorted crosswalks. Like the rest of the city, this infirmary was yet another plug in the endless chain of buildings that compiled it's fabric.  
  
"Alright, then." And Doel nodded once and dismounted as well. Albert, preoccupied with Derrick's weight, did not notice his uncle come aside him and take the man himself. There was a brief pause and uncertain glance.   
  
"You'll bleed all over him..." Doel offered in way of an explanation as Albert began to protest. "I'm stronger anyway. Now move." And he curtly nodded Albert away, easily slinging Derrick over one shoulder and turning on heel- walking across the busy sidewalk and up the stairs nearest them.  
  
"Be careful!" Albert called after him, following quickly.  
  
"Be quiet." Doel snapped with a sidelong glance.  
  
The people around them hardly blinked. They'd seen wounded before, and quite frequently over the years as the war became ever the more brutal. Up another few stairs and shoving open a large pine door, Doel clattered into the room nearest him. Albert entered directly after, scowling slightly at his uncle. Doel just smirked a little at that, and surveyed the small area.  
  
One tall, older man regarded them with somewhat of a dumfounded expression. One hand up, the other holding a vile, he was mixing chemicals of some sort. Or had been, until Doel's abrupt entrance interrupted his thoughts.  
  
"At least it's less noisy in this shack..." Doel muttered absently. He could still easily hear the hustle of the town outside... but it was rather muffled. "You there." And he tossed his chin at the single man in the room. It certainly didn't *look* like a medical office. More a living area... "Where is your doctor?"  
  
"I..." He stuttered. Blinked.   
  
"Come on then! I don't have all goddamned day! Do you see this bleeding heap on my back!?"  
  
"UNCLE!" Albert growled from behind him. Doel turned his head sharply to look at Albert, who walked beside him a moment and then continued towards the rather distraught man. Positioned away from them both, up near the window and seated behind a small desk, his eyes widened as Albert approached.  
  
"Good Graces!!! Your majesty Albert!?!   
  
"Hello, Fe'rom. It's been a while now."  
  
"i.. I should say!!" Fe'rom blinked, moving forwards abruptly and taking Albert's hand in greeting. "Years, then! Whatever should bring you here!? I.. Well- it's quite unexpected!! Why would you leave Bale!? Is anything wrong?"  
  
"I assure you that nothing lay amiss, but a friend is injured and needs your care." Albert smiled and released him, nodding to Doel and Derrick. "The wound was caused by a Cross bow, and pierced his lung. I'm afraid the injury is serious..."  
  
Fe'rom was already standing next to Doel, carefully running an ancient hand over Derrick's brow to check for fever and instructing the tall, raven haired Sandoran to lay him on the single bed nearby. He nodded and muttered aloud, taunt features evaluating the wound.   
  
"Yes... yes it is serious. He's lost a deal of blood, but infection is not evident. You took good care of the gash..."  
  
Doel knitted his brows together. "So you *are* the doctor, then.."  
  
Fe'rom turned to glare at him just slightly. "I should think it obvious. And you? Are you a knight of Basil?"  
  
Doel laughed aloud, turning his eyes with dark amusement on Albert. His nephew simply let a cold expression settle over his face and continued to watch Fe'rom as the Doctor blinked in confusion.  
  
"I am the emperor of Sandora, you fool."  
  
~Good one idiot, scare the poor bastard....~  
  
"Come again!?" Fe'rom sputtered quickly, nearly dropping a book he had picked from beside the bed. He was shocked- but did a superb job of hiding both the sudden fear and floundering surprise that came with such a declaration. Reasonably, he looked to Albert. Then to Doel again. Back to Albert.  
  
"Sire... surely he-!?"  
  
The young king of Basil took in a quick breath, and then nodded slowly. "He is my uncle, Fe'rom."   
  
"Holy mother of..." And the doctor swallowed, wrinkled flesh tensing and changing as a variety of expressions attempted to convey his reaction. Finally, one hand resting on Derrick's chest, he sharply leveled his gaze over Doel's frame.   
  
"I didn't know he'd be so ugly..."  
  
Albert stifled a laugh.  
  
"Har Har you little maggot. Mind your damned manners." And Doel swung an arm lightly at Albert to shut him up. "Fix the Knight. We'll be returning."  
  
"Yes, that was inappropriate of me. I apologize..." Fe'rom remarked absently. He pushed a handful of thinning white hair back behind one ear and gave a sigh. Questions boiled within his mind as he turned a confused gaze on the two kings. By gods, they were enemies. Black and white pieces of a chess game that had begun at the start of the Serdian War. Profession over all, he did not have a right to ask why they were here. Why they were even speaking. Why they hadn't killed one another by now.  
  
He simply took the fallen medical book from the floor where it had dropped, flipped it open quickly, and looked to Albert.  
  
"I will do my best for him. Keep hopeful."  
  
Albert nodded slowly. "Yes. Thank you."  
  
***  
  
"Brave little bastard..." Doel was growling as they left the building and returned to their Runners. "Does he have a deathwish? Is he really that goddamned STUPID?!"  
  
"Get over it." Albert said thinly. "Lohan is a commercial city. It's out of our boundaries. You know they operate on a 'Pure Market' economic system with little established involvement. They have no restrictions or rules governed by the royal families." He paused. Worked his jaw silently.   
  
"People here do not fear you, Doel..." And Albert gracefully craned his neck to survey the populates of Lohan. "Although that must be somewhat of an odd feeling, isn't it?  
  
Doel stopped his walk instantly, and only briefly held Albert's sharp glance as the younger continued forwards to Patience. His sage cape fluttered in a spin of motion as Albert leapt up unto her back. Flexed his wounded shoulder and ignored the stab that beat throughout it.   
  
"Your just as brave as he, with comments like that." Doel snarled. He was ignored, and so grasped Dark solidly by the reigns to mount as well. His Black and brown attire sheened lightly under the high sun. Rustled as the emperor gave a harsh jerk to his lead straps and sent Dark trotting away.   
  
Albert listened as Doel's deep voice shoo'd civilians about the area. Began to lead Patience after him.  
  
Where they were headed, Albert wasn't entirely sure. Around, above- below the winding streets they traveled at a quick and silent pace. He wondered briefly if they could find somewhere even remotely quiet and inactive to stay temporarily. Afterall, he had never known Lohan to be without it's natural upbeat nature in any area. At times the 'Den' could be a relatively calm place... but it was really like a central square to Lohan. A good many inns lined the outerwalls of it's arena like area, followed by an inner circle that served as a massive walkway. Every year, he had heard there was a rather brutal contest held within. The 'Strongest in the World' or something like that... in which assorted fighters would compete against each other for...  
  
Well- his details were scarce. It had never been a happening Albert gave much thought to.  
  
~I hope Derrick is alright.~  
  
"Hell." Doel muttered from just ahead of him. Albert raised a brow. Brought Patience alongside Dark.  
  
Is something wrong? And Albert blinked in confusion as his uncle growled at the people in his immediate vicinity. One boot even went so far as to strike a man nearby that had muttered something colorful at his passing.  
  
"No. I just need a damned drink." He continued, eyes immediately beginning to scan the shops along their route. Before Albert could protest in any fashion, he had sighted a small tavern off to their right- nestled against the giant border wall that ran along the city limits. Dark was directed towards it.  
  
"Honestly, do we have time for this!?"  
  
"Shut up, Albert." He laughed. A deep, booming sound. "This entire goddamned day has sucked- quite frankly. If you can call a time out to help the little brat knight, I can get a decent shot of hard liqueur." He waved a hand back to his nephew. "Besides. The whole point of our meeting in the first place was to discuss a truce, right!?"  
  
Albert just stared. "In a local BAR!?"  
  
Doel was already off his Runner, scattering a couple of ground pigeons as he jumped down. One hand flicked a strand of black from his eyes and then pointed at Albert.  
  
"Just come on. Gods..."   
  
Alright- so it may not have been a simple drink Doel was after. When he entered- everyone somewhat halted their conversations. Arguments. Doel was a big man, stocky and built as any good fighter would be. He gave something like a nod to the curious faces, each in turn, and made a general pace towards the keeper.  
  
When Albert wandered in afterwards, again the company stared.  
  
He raised one hand and waved meekly.  
  
"Your closing shop." Doel was saying to the keeper. A firm, direct order that was both blunt and not without a trace of hostility. Of course, the poor smaller man on the receiving end of this exchange simply gulped back his pride and tried to argue in a reasonable fashion. It was quite the little scene, with Doel crossing his arms and the short, slim keeper attempting to save his tavern's business for the day. Eventually, after about ten minutes passed, Doel simply handled things the old fashioned way to attain what he wished.  
  
A rather bulky pouch came up in one hand from Doel's left pocket- and he tossed it at the keeper. A catch. A gasp as the man examined the amount of lucre within.  
  
"Now closed the damned shop."  
  
No further argument.  
  
Albert only felt himself sigh heavily in the minutes after. Watch listlessly as The keeper left the bar, and the diverse amount of people within quietly shuffle outside. Many sent Doel three or four death glares- But his uncle simply flashed them a grin in return and waved good-bye. He had to admit that the entire procession was somewhat humorous. Death glare- grin and wave. Albert watched the last man shuffle out and slam the door behind him.  
  
"Tax money does have it's uses, doesn't it?" Doel chuckled. The dirty look Albert shot in his direction was entirely expected.  
  
"In your terms? hardly." His nephew began. "That was a rather crude display. I wonder why Kanzas has not yet reached the point of economic collapse."  
  
"Was that a joke?"  
  
Albert rolled his eyes and sauntered away from the wall he had been leaning against. A gloved hand reached out slowly, took a chair and pulled it back to sit down. Somewhat tired eyes trailed absently over the small, dim room and it's blocky assortment of tables. Along the far wall was the bar Doel now rummaged through evenly. He took out various bottles, growled at the labels he didn't approve of and slammed a glass down on the counter.  
  
"Drink?" he inquired, mixing a small medley of alcohol.  
  
Albert replied with a somber; "I don't drink" And lowered his gaze slightly, raising one hand to kneed at a rapidly forming headache. He could hear Doel snort with some type of amusement. A chink of glass, and then heavy footfalls coming near.  
  
"Funny. I don't either." The Sandoran said quietly. Albert blinked as his uncle walked behind him.  
  
"Ugh- and then why come here in the first pla-aaaGGHH!!!"   
  
Doel watched as Albert clamped his jaw down viciously. He couldn't blame him... because the burn had to be extremely hurtful. The contents of the glass he had prepared was now seeping into Albert's wound, and Doel held the injury fast. Clamped both of his hands over the shoulder and pressed down hard. There was a long moment of silence save for the harsh breathing of his nephew... and Doel was quick to exchange the pressure of his hands with a cloth he had taken from the bar.  
  
"I'm sorry, but If your waiting to return to Bale before seeing to this wound, we have to kill the infection.  
  
Albert gave a slight cough and tensed visibly. You could have WARNED Me!" he gasped in a strained voice.  
  
"I suppose- but it's quicker this way. The pain will stop soon."   
  
Albert nodded quickly, and Doel felt himself smile when he cursed in True Serdian three or four times. As the strong alcohol had sent his blood running anew, Doel was quick and frank in moving his shoulder up. Wrapping the injury with skill that somewhat took his nephew off guard.  
  
"Neide'a Vetier, eh?" The Sandoran smirked, keeping his relative occupied as he dressed the wound.  
  
Albert slightly turned his head to regard him with a touch of surprise. He winced as Doel pulled another cloth tight over his shoulder- have momentarily returned to the bar for another.  
  
"Yes, it hurts like a bitch..." The young king began. "I didn't know you were fluent in the dialect..."  
  
"Ha! how could I not be!? With listening to your mother run on with it as she did!?" Doel shifted his right hand to gently smooth flat a torn piece of flesh that hung from Albert's jagged wound. Now- he was somewhat amazed. Albert had fought, carried Derrick, and ridden with him to Lohan supporting this thing... the kid should have been doubled over in pain throughout half of their journey- nevermind when he tossed alcohol on it...  
  
"Yes... I remember that."  
  
"Well, you have the accent. I knew you could speak it when I heard you talking to that man from Hellena. Even over the common day Serdian dialect, you can tell True from the Universal variation although neither sound alike." He slapped his hands free of blood and gave a sigh. "... There. You'll look a little awkward with my make shift Band-Aid and all... but it will suit it's purpose for the time being."  
  
Albert nodded absently. Looked up to regard his uncle as he gazed out over the tavern a few moments.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
A silence.  
  
"We just had a conversation, didn't we? Aside from war and the wounded..."  
  
Doel twitched his nose as his nephew spoke. One hand slid a chair from the table at which Albert was sitting and settled down himself. "Scary, huh?"  
  
"In it's own way... yes. I suppose."  
  
Doel shifted his head and gave a nonchalant nod. Absently fumbled with the cuff of one sleeve. "Shame. Because you know that once we start talking, we're going to loose whatever pleasantries surround us now."  
  
"Hmm. Sitting in a bar you paid to have empty- and discussing the future of our kingdoms. Do you at all find this rather ridiculous?"  
  
Doel shrugged and hefted his boots up onto another chair nearby. "Well, it could have been worse. We met to talk, right? Setting doesn't really play that large a part in logical words." He glared at nothing a moment. Tossed Albert a glance.   
  
The young king closed his eyes and let a painful shudder pass through his wound.  
  
-------------  
  
Kanzas  
  
-------------   
  
"Doel should return shortly. Do not be distressed."  
  
Lloyd spoke carefully to the aid that had come running in on he and Frugel's little 'session' He could tell the young soldier was attempting to stay focused and alert. Trying gravely to keep his gaze on Lloyd alone, and not the bleeding mass aside them. Silver hair glinting softly under the dim oil lamps that lit Hellena, Lloyd seemed perfectly collected. Despite what he had been partaking in.  
  
The Wingly had been intent on making Frugel pay for simply being alive long ago. His recent foul-up was just an excuse to have a little one on one with the huge Warden.  
  
"But... sir! We can't understand what Kongol is 'saying!' I know his majesty left him responsible for the castle in his absence... but-!!!"  
  
"Stop running on." Lloyd said quietly, absently wiping a knife clean on his left pant leg. "Kongol's speech isn't that horrid, and he's a damned smart man."  
  
"Yes... but..." And the soldier fidgeted in place. "Sir!!!"  
  
"Honestly." Lloyd shot him a glance. "What is of such dire importance that Kongol can not assist you?"  
  
They both looked to Frugel quickly as a hacking cough let up from the man. Seeming even more uncomfortable, the soldier immediately averted his gaze and returned his attention to Lloyd.  
  
"It's... well, our routine scouts found the Hellena soldiers Frugel ordered to pursue his majesty Albert."  
  
Lloyd raised a brow. "And?"  
  
"They are dead, sir. We found one of our identification bands and counted the exact number of graves. Seven in total, with one man who apparently survived longer then the rest, and was stabbed sometime after his group had been buried. We are seeing that their families are notified in the next hour or so. As for the scene itself... it was rather messy- and a dead Runner was also reported at the site, although it was not one of ours. From Basil, sir."  
  
Lloyd narrowed his eyes. "Alright, then. But I hardly see that as substantial news. Although-" And he addressed Frugel without looking at him, a slight grin on his face. "It seems your team did a *fine* job of incapacitating Doel's nephew, eh?"  
  
No reply. Lloyd chuckled. "Unfortunately, seeing as how the Hellena soldiers reached Albert before Doel had, I suppose our chances at a truce have been broken."  
  
"I wouldn't know, sir. Doel did meet up with his nephew at somepoint- and that is what has us confused."  
  
The Wingly stilled. Blinked. "What?"  
  
"Dark, his majesty's elite Runner, is an enormous male and very easy to track. We found the imprints of it's hooves scattered about the area. Doel was there."  
  
Lloyd crossed his arms and thought a moment, training his eyes over the body of Hellena's head warden. Gasping- breathing in hoarse, shallow gasps... his skin was laden thick with blood. Streams of the hot fluid steamed into the chilly air.  
  
"Then... if Doel did find his nephew..." And he mentally counted the graves as a sudden panic caught- and then released him. Albert could never defeat Doel- one. Two, the bodies found did not represent an accurate number should the emperor have been present among them. "I don't understand. It's not likely that after having an encounter with the soldiers Albert would have been willing to discuss much of anything. Nevermind a truce. If he returned to Bale, Doel would have also returned to Kanzas and surely would have been back by now..."  
  
The young soldier nodded. "Yes. But we believe they went off together. Judging by the tracks presented, two separate patterns had left the forest- and both in the same direction.  
  
"Forest?"  
  
"The Hauestus. Just outside Seles."   
  
"Then why the hell haven't they arrived in Kanzas yet?"  
  
"I don't know! And that is why we are somewhat distraught- nevermind that fact that we can't get any UNDERSTANDABLE advice from Kongol!"   
  
Lloyd simply shook his head in understanding, running over the information in his mind and quickly sorting through it.  
  
"Then... you have simply to wait I suppose."  
  
"Sir!?"  
  
"That is all we can do. Answers will be brought in time.  
  
-----------  
  
Back in Lohan...  
  
-----------  
  
"We have two main forces each. You with the first and second knighthood's. I with the Hellena quarter troops and your general castle brand soldiers. Each of us has lost the most of our men from these individual groups, yes?"  
  
"Yes. Strategy being similar, we've brought one another to a standstill on several occasions. A stalemate- for which nothing but further loss of life can been accounted." Albert's slender left hand rose and swept evenly across the map in front of them. "Here," And he indicated an area between the border to Tiberoa and Hoax, "Is the Seventh Fort of Basil. You know as well as I that the second knighthood is currently stationed within. That the fifth is in Hoax. I propose that you withdraw your soldiers from this area in exchange for my release of Birh'aut."  
  
"... which is currently under the occupation of Basil."  
  
"Again- As you know."  
  
Doel thought a moment, nodded his head in acceptance and moved his eyes to regard Albert. "That is acceptable. We haven't been able to do a damn about your second knighthood as of yet. I'll admit they are a good group of men... " He took in the topographic landscape of Serdio, knitting his brows together. "You also have that Lavits fellow as well... commander of the 1st knighthood. The Bastard is annoying as hell."  
  
Albert only breathed a sigh and adjusted his posture. He didn't want to aggravate his shoulder any more then completely necessary.  
  
"Your supreme commander Geraldek' is.. Quite similar. If at the moment this is a matter of relent and reacquire- we need to balance our powers evenly. A shift on either end will not be acceptable to our men, and certainly not acceptable to us."  
  
"By the book, as always?"  
  
"By the rules of war, Uncle."  
  
Doel leaned back in his chair and yet again nodded. Carefully evaluated his nephew's expression and it's subtle changes. They had been at this perhaps a few hours now. Generally underlining the fine points of both agreement and disapproval. He was surprised, really. Albert had a very clear head on his shoulders. Quick and sharp, his mind did not skip even the slightest detail. The smallest possible outcome.  
  
The months to come would prove interesting. Horrible, when Lloyd and he finally accumulated their planning into the ideal that it was. Albert, despite his intellect and alert nature, would never see it coming. The 'rules of war' would no longer apply.   
  
~Feyrbrand. The violet dragoon spirit.~  
  
As much as Sandora needed this truce- there were other reasons that drove it's necessity.   
  
And all at once, he no longer wanted to go through with any of them.  
  
"Uncle." Albert began. A pause and brief wait before his voice came again. "Uncle Doel?" And the Sandoran jolted himself forwards a moment, having not initially realized he was being addressed. Taking a short breath and looking at his nephew, Albert eyed him carefully. A curious- borderline concerned look.  
  
"... what?" he managed lamely.  
  
"You looks distressed. Is anything wrong?"  
  
Doel didn't entirely know how to answer. He stared numbly at his relative a moment. Traced his eyes over the young features that now so calmly regarded him. Oddly enough, he felt an odd confusion and anger in doing so. Both of which laced his voice as he spoke a sentence that.... somewhat surprised him.  
  
"Why *do* you call me that...?"  
  
Albert raised a brow. "Call you what?"  
  
Doel shook his head. "Uncle. Of all things to call me, you say it like it... it was most native thing in the world to you."  
  
Somewhat confused, Albert only sat back in his chair. "Out of habit, I suppose."  
  
"A 17 year old habit!?"  
  
"And why not?" His nephew flexed his good shoulder and seemed indecisive a moment. "I just... I had always done so. Before... my father died. I can't remember not. Because with you.. That was just- I guess..."  
  
Doel wasn't the only one who realized that, at the mention of Albert's father, they were heading into dangerous territory. Saying it alone brought something thin across Albert's features. An obvious strain on his memory that demanded it's say. That demanded to question, know, and be allowed to hate. The emperor of Sandora was then met with a choice of sorts. Break that thread- force the past into the present and deal with it now.  
  
Or, go over that notion completely and end their converse. He could easily enough leave matters as they were now- with boundaries decided and an agreement reached in the Serdian war.  
  
But it seemed wrong.  
  
And yet it didn't...  
  
And he hated himself for being so damned unable to deal with this issue as it was.  
  
"Then... we've settled this as it remains now, yes?" Doel heard himself begin. Over Albert's last comment completely, his voice again addressed the reasoning of their talk. The truce.  
  
Albert looked as if he had been shaken from somewhere unpleasant, and blinked slowly. His eyes scanned the map, his uncle, closed and reopened as a type of finality was reached. He shook his head. Carefully redrew their border territories with a skilled flow of ink. Replacing the writing utensil to a pouch at his side some few moments after, Albert breathed in heavily.  
  
"It's done, then."  
  
Doel regarded his nephew carefully. "It is."  
  
"Good." A somewhat hollow voice. "You may take the original- and I will draft a copy. In returning to our respectful kingdoms these will be put into effect at once, and the appropriate officers will be notified. I trust you to follow these terms exactly."  
  
"Yes. And you the same."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Doel nodded, lowered his eyes and wrapped up the map scroll that had been spread evenly over the long pine table. He briefly registered Albert, having stood in the moments after and walked passed him at a somewhat tired pace. Carefully tying three bands back into place over the thick paper, he lightly turned his head to glance at the ash blonde.  
  
"I thought you didn't drink?"  
  
"I still don't." Albert said flatly, returning his uncle's gaze and pouring a shot of vodka. "I simply heard it calms your nerves..." And he swallowed the clear liquid, grimacing and giving a cough afterwards.  
  
"Utterly Vile."  
  
Doel raised a brow. "And Does it work?"  
  
"Of course not." Albert washed out the glass he had used and returned it to a delicate row of holders. Both hands came up over the bar, and he leaned into it weakly. "Makes you stupid, irrational and awkward? Yes. But otherwise?"   
  
"Then why drink it?"  
  
Doel had just enough time to brace himself before a very distinct look ran quickly across the face of his nephew. It was sad, angry, and confused all at once. Accusing in it's own way, and frightening in another.  
  
"Simple. Because just maybe, when I return to bale, I'll be able to understand why I'm about to ask you this."  
  
A silence.   
  
"Uncle...." And Albert's voice was terribly thin as he pinned Doel's gaze with his own. "Why didn't you kill me? Then?"  
  
~No escape now...~  
  
***  
  
_"No."  
  
The strong, able soldier that stood behind him seemed to not have heard. That, or perhaps the shock of what Doel had said was still present. The throne room, so cold and quiet, remained ever the more still as his voice echoed away.  
  
"... W..what!?" Galen choked roughly, as if he had been struck.   
  
:"I will not *End it*" his voice gathered furiously. "Not him!"  
  
Doel still held the sword to Albert's neck even as he said this, feeling his arms shake in place. Tremble madly to hold a life so thin. To take it, and only with a slide of the mammoth weapon.  
_  
***   
  
Doel felt himself falter even as his eyes took on a dark shade. His body tensed with the question- and the confrontation it would bring about. Holding Albert's gaze with a somber expression, he drew his mouth into a thin line and filtered through the thoughts of his memory. It sounded so simple to ask- and yet the answers to most questions were never the such.  
  
So what did he say, now that they had begun?  
  
A deep; "You were *not* your father" came from his throat. A start to a thousand different reasons that could be mistaken for logical thought.   
  
"But I *was* his son." Albert bit back. "You could have had it all by killing me. You could have taken Serdia in that one moment, and yet you did not. I awoke to find you gone. I was bleeding. My neck was bleeding... but you weren't there and *I* wasn't dead..."  
  
Doel closed his eyes and felt a scowl flicker to life over his features. "And would you prefer I had taken your life!?"  
  
"At times, yes!" And Albert noted Doel's somewhat startled reaction as his uncle shot a burning gaze back to his own. "Including the day my father died- and a various more! I *need* to know, uncle. Your explanation is impossible. I was not my father!? I was not much of anything other then a lowly obstacle in your path!"  
  
Doel's eyes flashed. "Is it REALLY so hard to believe!?"  
  
" When a twenty year war lay solely on that decision!? YES!! you tossed this country to hell!"  
  
"I FREED this country from Tyranny!" Doel snarled, feeling his voice and temper raise at an instant. "Exactly how much do you remember about your goddamned father Albert!? You were six years old for the love of Soa!"  
  
"Six!?" His nephew growled in an intense, determined tone." Six and old enough to know right from wrong! My father was a good man! A good king!"  
  
"And how many years did it take before Noish made you BELIEVE That!?"  
  
The instant silence that dropped around them was suffocating, but Doel refused to speak until Albert could contradict him. His regarded the intent hazel eyes that drove into his own with immense effort. Because this was his nephew's spot. His area of pain. Suffering that was eager to find an outlet inside a body that could never overcome such emotions. Doel could see, relate, and hate it's presence just as much as Albert could now hate him.  
  
It was rather unnerving. They had gone from friendly to hostile in a matter of seconds.  
  
His nephew tensed and backed away from the counter- rounding it in a single motion to begin towards him again. Doel stood over the old wooden floor to meet his stalk.  
  
"You don't know anything." The young king growled- stopping inches from Doel's tall frame.  
  
"I knew *everything* That regarded your father, boy. I knew about the way he treated people. His abusive use of land and labor. His belief that all living things were under him and his opinions. The way he-" And Albert cut him off with a ragged sentence.  
  
"How could you possibly-!?  
  
"How could YOU honestly believe I did not know my older sibling! Everyday of my life he was with me! Challenging my ideals and my strong disapproval of his absurd actions! You, who hates death so very much, should have rejoiced to see such a merciless killer put in his place!  
  
Albert looked shaken as he spat a furious; "Liar! You should speak of killers!!"  
  
And Doel had had enough.  
  
Cautious to avoid the full fury that sparked behind the eyes of his nephew, one hand shot out and grasped his wounded shoulder. Albert relented under his strong grip with a cry of pain- and Doel spun him around in one lightning fast motion. Threw him down over the table behind them and held Albert immobile.  
  
"Do you even KNOW What denial is!?" Doel hissed in a sharp, but quiet voice. "Don't you remember ANYTHING!? What he did to others!? To you mother!? To YOU!?" He picked Albert slightly from the table and slammed him down again in a half-shake of sorts. "Wake UP! Why must you be so BLIND!"  
  
Albert struggled against his firm grip, wounded and hating.   
  
"Why did you have to destroy my LIFE!!?"  
  
That- struck him.   
  
The truth of it was what burned the most, Doel supposed. But his first reaction was to give a furious growl and bury his nephew again into the hard wood at his back. He could understand Albert's intense anger now. Not caused by his fathers death- but what had come about because of it. The war. Growing up and living amongst it. Having to decide who lived and died because you were king. Albert, who was forced to become a strength he could not feel.  
  
Doel had always known it... but it was better to try and overlook such things. Knowing that the child he had loved as his own was the unwilling scapegoat of this entire affair.  
  
All of it because he had not killed the boy. Had not been *able* to- and for that very same reason.  
  
~Damned if I had, and damned if I hadn't. What justice is this?~  
  
Certainly a cruel sort, if none other.  
  
Albert was more still now, but both of his arms had come up and grasped Doel's own where the older man held him down. They stayed like that a few moments- Doel's one powerful hand at Albert's neck- and his nephew holding him back from what indeed might have been a strangle. The emperor could not bring himself to let go. Not yet. Not for any reasons he truly understood, in all honesty.  
  
"Your just as vicious as he had been..." Albert said quietly- unable to gain his breath. "TO end this fighting. This..wa.r..." And he gasped, struggled still. "I would give you the damned country if I was not so certain you would destroy it! But I'm in too deep now. I can't turn back- and you are obsessed with gaining more and more power!"  
  
Doel jaw knit tight. "I am NOT like Carlos. In gaining power I can shape this world to it's true potential. I can fix everything. Everyone!"   
  
Albert sucked in a breath. "What wounded you so to make you think this way!? You acquire only death- uncle! Fighting cannot be solved with fighting! I have continued this struggle only to earn my people freedom from your reign! Freedom they die to attain every single day! What you have created is Chaos-!!!" And his voice was struck back violently as Doel forced his arm down. Overcame Albert's strength and cutting the air from his lungs.  
  
"Then why take such a *chance*..." Doel finally growled after a few moments had passed. "Knowing that this meeting could have been ill intentioned. That I or any one of my men could kill you- just like I'm slowly doing now..."  
  
Albert glared up at him without fear or contempt. Simply a strong, solid gaze. He spoke firmly, even with knowing he chanced to loose even more precious air in the attempt.  
  
"Because..." He managed hoarsely. "You could n..ot kill me then... Yo..u won't now... and I sim..ply refuse to di..e..."  
  
"Strong words for someone who can't even breathe!" Doel felt himself shaking as he drove even harder. Clamped his grip down with tremendous force and watched as Albert closed his eyes tightly. The Sandoran was horrified now. With himself. That he could be this way and *want* this.  
  
~But I DON'T! I don't -want- this! I just... I...~  
  
His thoughts were violently interrupted as Albert suddenly fought back with a quick, massive burst of strength. Chest and back- two solid blows that landed without mercy or delay. A flip in his thoughts and a cry of pain that came from his very own throat... ended quickly with one solid punch.  
  
Doel was sent stumbling to the ground as Albert landed a firm kick to his mid section. As he felt the hard wooden floor rip at his clothing, he could also hear Albert speaking from somewhere at his left.  
  
"I told you, uncle. I refuse to die- and my resolve will remain firm in this decision until I am certain that Serdio has once more found peace."  
  
Solid steps approached him.  
  
Doel looked up in a form of distant, detached thought as Albert quietly appeared above him, and reached out a hand. For a few moments he simply stared. Shocked in a way. That one- Albert had managed to escape his hold, and that he was now on the *floor* atop it.  
  
Out of further options, He reached up and took the hand. With a clean, quick motion, Albert hauled him to his feet once more.  
  
They exchanged a long look.  
  
And very quickly, without warning of any sort, his nephew stumbled just slightly and all but collapsed to the ground.  
  
----------------------------------  
  
The following morning  
  
----------------------------------  
  
  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Well?!"  
  
"Be more patient. Isn't that supposed to a virtue all royalty must share in?"  
  
"Old man- are you *looking* for an early grave?"  
  
"No, no..." And Fe'rom shook his head distantly. "I'm sorry. Don't get so very offensive!!"  
  
In the bright light of early morning, Derrick flashed his eyes amongst those present. The Knight was hurting and sore... but his injury had be dealt with and repaired with expert skill. He shifted slightly by his perch on a nearby table, ignoring the itchy gauze that was wrapped about his chest and concealed under his garments. Now washed of the blood from before, he was glad to have the pungent stink away from his flesh. Hells knew he smelt enough of that on the battle fields...  
  
But... then again. He wouldn't be fighting for a time, now. As Doel had informed him, a ceasefire would come into existence.  
  
Derrick wondered if he had looked as shocked as he felt.  
  
Of course, when he had awoken this morning he'd thought the worst. His king was near him- strewn carefully over another small bed. Having Doel in the room had not helped his initial reaction either. Despite his pain, Derrick attempted to run at him with sword flying. Limping upwards like a man possessed and searching for his weapon. The emperor had simply cocked a brow in his direction.  
  
Doel, as he then learned, was the one that *brought* Albert to Fe'rom.  
  
"Simple Blood loss.." The doctor was explaining again. "The infection you killed..." And he looked quickly at Doel. "Had had time beforehand to tax Albert's system, which made it all the more easy for his loss of fluid to become a distinct problem. Amazing he made it to Lohan in the first place... that arrow wound was quite a nasty little thing..."  
  
Fe'rom continued absently like that, skillfully threading Albert's injury and closing the horrid gape. The young king looked pale and somewhat weak, but overall he had more or less subsided into a deep sleep.  
  
Derrick nodded, keeping his gaze level with Doel. It was the first time he had ever seen the tall Emperor of Sandora... and this was not... exactly what he had expected. He *expected* someone evil...  
  
But Doel was just... there. Looking concerned and generally pensive. As if there was far to many wrong thoughts in his mind.  
  
"When will we be able to return to Bale?" The knight asked carefully.  
  
"Oh- by this afternoon, surely." Fe'rom said with a grin. "Albert will awaken soon, I'm positive..." And he shot an awkward glance in Doel's direction. "Kanzas will be up and searching for you by now." He smiled. "However *will* you explain that black eye of yours?"  
  
Almost as if he had forgotten, one strong hand came up and touched the sore area of his face. With it came actions- remembering the tavern- and the words exchanged. He grimaced long and hard, finally resolving to emit a low; "Shut up." Just for good measure.  
  
"I'm sure you'll figure out something, Probably similar to what Albert will have to concoct, seeing as how he has a deep arrow wound and obvious bruises around his neck and shoulders."   
  
Derrick, who had spoken, caught Doel's dangerous glance. "Settling some issues, were you?"  
  
"*Settling* can be a very vague word."  
  
After a few silent minutes were left to echo around his last emotionless sentence, Doel silently pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against. Absently pulled two black gloves from his right pocket and jerked them on abruptly. Derrik and Fe'rom regarded him silently as he tossed a strand of black from his eyes. Looked at each of them in turn.  
  
"Your leaving, then."  
  
"Yes." And Doel nodded curtly. "My mount is outside- As is Patience, and a runner for the young knight."  
  
Derrick looked a tad startled, but then nodded his thanks.  
  
"However..." And Doel stopped at the door, glancing only momentarily at his nephew and then turning coal-like eyes to knight of Basil. "Would you tell him something for me. When... he awakens?"  
  
Derrick absently looked to Fe'rom, but nodded quickly. "I..." A pause. "Yes.."   
  
"Tei' Lorda'ra." And Doel expected the surprised expression that flashed over Derrick's features. "Say it. I want to make sure you can pronounce it correctly."  
  
The knight stuttered in confusion, blinked, but then finally relented and echoed a slow: "Tay...' Lore..de..Hara?" in as accurate an interpretation as he could manage. The syllables were odd, drawn and sharp. a language he had never heard before.  
  
"... True Serdian..." Fe'rom said slowly. "I don't know the dialect, but I can recognize it's sound. Albert knows it?"  
  
"Other then myself, he's probably the only one left who may. The knight is close enough." The Sandoran nodded and then glared at Derrick. "DON'T forget."  
  
With a soft rustle of his clothing and a toss of broad shoulders, Doel left the building. He did not bother to look back. Nor did he even manage to growl in irritation at a noisy shopkeeper that went running across his sight. The city of Lohan would never change, day or night.  
  
People were a different breed, though.   
  
Dark saw him coming before Doel even noticed the buck. A mocking neigh went shooting up into the early morning air, and more then a few people jumped back in surprise as the giant black Runner began to haw like a damned fledgling. Ah, well... he must have been bored.  
  
Patience on the other hand, (tied at a post near to Dark and the meek- but sturdy Runner he'd acquired for Derrick) was not nearly as overjoyed to see him. Baring her teeth- which seemed a characteristic not foreign to the creature- she bellowed a type of disgust and snorted at Dark. His beast took it personally, thwacking it's head towards her chestnut hide.  
  
Patience, in turn, whirled like a madwoman and kicked him directly in the ass.  
  
"Serves you right for being a cocky bastard..." Doel said quietly to the now whimpering Dark. He came beside him carefully, minding his distance of Patience and her rather evil temper. "Remind me to tell Albert his Runner has a serious attitude problem."  
  
After eventually soothing Dark's wounded pride, Doel easily climbed onto his back in one smooth motion and began down the gritty streets. As when he had arrived the previous day, pedestrians proved a bother- and Dark took out his frustration with Patience on their busy bodies. He made a delighted chirp, happy to scare each new man and woman with a quick growl.  
  
Doel, usually amused with the traditional antics of his buck, simply stared on ahead as they exited Lohan.  
  
Paths became fields. Fields became forests. It was quiet again. A noiseless venture home, with only the sounds of nature to drift light and unnoticed over his hearing. Honestly, it may not have mattered if a troop of those bustling people from the city he'd left behind showed up at that very instant. Doel wouldn't have noticed them- if even registered their presence at more then a glance.  
  
"There are many things I don't understand, Dark..." He commented absently, speaking to the beast that shifted quietly beneath him. The Runner perked his ears... snorted and walked on. Doel simply found his voice continuing. As if perhaps listening to his own speech might clarify troubled thoughts.  
  
"But of all those things... and even after believing that yes, I understand him- and that yes, I can judge and evade his mind... Albert confuses me. His logic, his value of life. Perhaps the only thing I understand is his hatred of the past."  
  
~Which he has a right to hate me for. But... his emotions were so sudden. Like he didn't want them, and was ashamed to place blame on the closest person to actual family that still exists in his life.~  
  
A fragment of a sentence both disturbed and angry shot into his thoughts.  
_  
"Why did you have to destroy my LIFE!"_  
  
In war, there were always casualties. His nephew had been no different. Those many years ago, if his soldiers had *just* managed to slay the small prince...  
  
"It never would have landed in my hands. Mine- that I could not bring to take his life, because he had done nothing. Was still my family. Was not his father." Doel sighed heavily and breathed deep of the crisp air around him. Perhaps Frugel, fat dragon egg that he was, had been right. He was a coward.  
  
It didn't matter now in anycase, but he wondered what Albert truly thought of him. If the hatred he saw in the young king's eyes was a true emotion, or if it was something else. A desire to understand that flickered behind each glance they shared.  
  
~unfortunately, that will Never happen. You know what the future holds, Doel.~  
  
_To end this fighting. This war... I would give you the damned country if I was not so certain you would destroy it! But I'm in too deep now. I can't turn back- and you are obsessed with gaining more and more power!_  
  
It was amazing he could recall those words with such vivid detail.  
  
_You acquire only death- uncle! Fighting cannot be solved with fighting! I have continued this struggle only to earn my people freedom from your reign! Freedom they die to attain every single day! What you have created is Chaos-!!!_  
  
Chaos...  
  
But if Chaos was what needed to be dealt in order to attain his goals, so be it. Albert could not understand that. Again he thought a blind; 'There are always casualties in war'  
  
The people who had died thus far were sacrifices of a worthy cause.  
  
They *had* to be.  
  
His thoughts continued to run as the sun peaked at high noon, and the black castle loomed like a jagged piece of obsidian on the earthen horizon.  
  
Soon.  
  
And Dark paced onwards.  
  
*******   
  
"Hey!" Derrick grinned and lowered the glass of water in his right hand- stopped quickly in the motion of taking a drink. "Your awake!!!"  
  
Not that Albert entirely understood that himself. Fe'rom smiled kindly as the king of Basil blinked in earnest. Attempted to adjust his vision and clarify his thoughts. Around him the room was scented of medicine and... old blood. He turned his head weakly to the right, taking in the presence of those also in his company, and winced under the light that streamed from nearby windows.  
  
"I..." he began softly, but Albert's voice faded when he realized he didn't know exactly what to say. What... had happened?  
  
"Good to see you with us once more, your majesty." Fe'rom said quietly, and lifted one hand to check his injured shoulder. Albert watched, still somewhat listless, and registered the wound as if it was something he'd forgotten. Derrick came up at his right.   
  
"You lost a lot of blood after those Hellena guys shot you. Doel kind of filled us in on all that... he wouldn't give any hints as to what happened between you two, but last night he carried you to Fe'rom so the doc' could stitch up that wound." An energetic smile. "Thanks. For saving me. I would have died if you didn't go through what you had..."  
  
Albert replied with a troubled glance. He turned his head slightly and began to sit up. "Your... injury. Are you...?"  
  
Derrick smiled again. "I'm fine! Fe'rom rocks. High five, old dude!!" And the doctor laughed out loud.  
  
"Yes, well.. I thank you for the kind words, M'boy. As for you Albert, you'll probably be feeling a little woozy and not quite yourself. That should let up soon. An hour or so I would think. In the meantime I suggest resting here until you've regained your strength. Perhaps eat something too- it will help."  
  
Albert only nodded and managed a somewhat detached "Thank you..." before already attempting to stand and walk. It was somewhat of a ludicrous sight, as immediately one arm reached out to steady himself against the wall- and Albert slowly lowered to his knees as a wave of dizziness swept him. Derrick was immediately at his shoulder.  
  
"Eerrrhhh.... you should listen to the doctor. He'll know what's best- come on..." And he helped Albert stand again so the young king could seat himself back upon the bed. "We don't need to leave for Bale immediately, so don't worry about it."  
  
Strands of loose ash blonde left to waver in his eyes, Albert suddenly shook his head- almost violently- and grasped Derrick's supportive arm.   
  
"Doel! I... my uncle- where is he!?!"  
  
"Oh! Yeah- he left! Calm down! I don't know what you and he got into before coming here, but damn did the guy look spooked!"  
  
"A bit distraught, might be a better word." Fe'rom sighed from aside them, and carefully began mixing herbs at a table nearby. With skilled practice, he ground the small leaves in a tiny marble bowl and added a swirl of things. "You should know that Patience is outside as well- with another Runner for Derrick when your well enough to leave. And-" He paused a moment. "Young knight... I believe the emperor asked that you give a message to his nephew, correct?"   
  
Derrick nodded quickly. "Yes- I know." And looked to his king. Albert regarded him with somewhat troubled features.  
  
"Now- okay... I *think* I got this correctly.." He shook his head and blinked. "It went.. Like... Tay Lor...de'hara? Ugh- Lord...era?"  
  
And Albert looked so very stunned, that Derrick cut slack his attempts to pronounce the words correctly. Fe'rom too turned at the sudden silence. Gently waited for it to pass.  
  
Hazel eyes lowering in the moments after, Albert echoed a soft: "Tai' Lorda'ra."   
  
Derrick nodded furiously. "Yeah!! That's it!!"  
  
Fe'rom would not be the only one who could tell that the short phrase had left some form of impact on the King of Basil. Albert's expression was one of such confused understanding that it nearly made the old doctor feel numb to watch it. Whatever the words had been, Albert did not expect them, and now his eyes flashed further with memories. Perhaps the happenings of last night.  
  
Derrick looked a bit concerned. Tightened his jaw just a moment and spoke again.  
  
"I don't mean to pry, but..." And he lifted his brows. "What does it ... ?"  
  
And after a few moments had passed, Albert replied with a listless: "It means... " then paused as if to evaluate the words one last time; "I'm sorry... "  
  
The Knight and Doctor watched quietly as Albert brought both arms up. Gingerly held his head in his hands.  
  
*********  
  
I tend to think that what drives us  
Is not so great  
As the goals of past that haunt your present  
When hell seemed a finer word.  
And you truly wish to love.  
To forgive.  
But will not yet   
Let go.  
  
--Timothy Astoneu  
  
-------------------------------------------------   
  
*revised 7/24/01*  


*Fin*

  
  


   [1]: mailto:RaptorJNB@aol.com



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